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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22626283">Lost</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarlyWrites/pseuds/CarlyWrites'>CarlyWrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Natasha and Wanda [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amputation, Amputee Wanda Maximoff, Anxiety Attacks, Auntie Nat, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Awesome Wanda Maximoff, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Brain Damage, Clint Barton &amp; Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton's Farm, Deaf Clint Barton, Depression, Domestic Avengers, Gen, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Injury, Injury Recovery, Kid Wanda Maximoff, Major Character Injury, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Missions Gone Wrong, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov-centric, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV Natasha Romanov, POV Wanda Maximoff, Permanent Injury, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Recovery, Rescue Missions, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Separation Anxiety, Series, Single Parents, Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov Friendship, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Telepathic Wanda Maximoff, Therapist Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff &amp; Natasha Romanov Friendship, Wanda Maximoff &amp; Peter Parker Friendship, Wanda Maximoff Has Abandonment Issues, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, abandonment isues, steve rogers &amp; wanda maximoff friendship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:07:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>97,327</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22626283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarlyWrites/pseuds/CarlyWrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of Silenced, life seems to be going well for Natasha and Wanda. Wanda goes to school and saves the world on weekends, while Natasha saves the world every day while making an effort to be home by dinner. However, just as the two have found a sense of safety and stability, their world is rocked by a life altering mission. The Avengers struggle to pick up the pieces as new threats rise to the scene.<br/>*Part 3 of the Natasha &amp; Wanda Series<br/>*Not CACW compliant</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bruce Banner &amp; Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton &amp; Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton &amp; Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Natasha Romanov &amp; Sam Wilson, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff &amp; Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff &amp; Peter Parker, Wanda Maximoff &amp; Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff/Vision</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Natasha and Wanda [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>276</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1: Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Part 3 of the series! I am so excited for you all to read this. Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow! The chapter titles will have the POV and there will also be a note at the start of each new chapter. However, the story will be mostly told through Wanda's point of view. Thank you all for sticking with this story over the past few weeks. Thank you all for so many wonderful comments and encouraging me to continue the story, your opinions mean so much to me and I try to listen to them as often as I can. Thank you again, enjoy!</p><p> Clarification for the timeline:<br/>Welcome Home: November 2015- Early October 2016<br/>Silenced: Early October 2016- March 2017<br/>Lost: March 2017 onward</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>         <span class="u"><strong><em>Natasha</em></strong></span> </p><p>            I sit on the hood of my Porsche, waiting for the school bus to pull up. The cold New York air bites at my skin, but it is more invigorating than anything else. My lips twitch into a smile as it comes into view. Home from D.C. I spot my girl hauling her duffel bag and stroll over.<br/>
            “You know, you could just use your powers.” She spins around, her eyes wide.<br/>
            “Nat?”<br/>
            “Hey kid, how was the capital?” She gapes at me and then rushes forward, squeezing me in a hug.<br/>
            “You’re talking, you can talk. Say something else,”<br/>
            “Let’s get your bag and head home?” I pick it up off the ground and throw it in the trunk of the car.<br/>
             “This is amazing,”<br/>
            “I’m glad you think so because we start Mandarin lessons again tomorrow.”<br/>
            “So, your voice is back, really back?”<br/>
             “Yes,” I flash her a smile.<br/>
            “Say something else,” her eyes flash with excitement. I laugh.<br/>
            “You are such a goof,” We pull up to our building and I had the valet the keys. “So what are you thinking for dinner? I am kind of feeling Italian.”<br/>
            We order take out from the Italian place around the corner and Wanda happily digs into her spaghetti.<br/>
            “So how was DC? Did you have fun?” She stabs at a meatball.<br/>
            “It was fine, I’ve decided I’m not a fan.”<br/>
            “I don’t have great memories of that place either,” I open up the fridge and hand her a water. “Do you want to talk about it?”<br/>
            “No, it was fine. Just, like you said, not a lot of great memories.” She subconsciously rubs her shoulder as she takes a sip of the water.<br/>
            “We should get ready to bed; you have school tomorrow.”<br/>
            “What do you even do all day when I’m at school?” she teases, leaning over the chair.<br/>
            “Oh, you know, just the usual saving the world stuff. Nothing too important.”</p><p>            After spending the week at our apartment in the city, I am happy to head upstate after school gets out Friday afternoon. The compound is surprisingly full. Nearly the entire team, save for Rhodey and Clint, are talking in the kitchen when we come in.<br/>
            “Welcome home, how is life on the Upper East Side?” Steve asks, “It’s no Brooklyn,”<br/>
            “You would know if you even came to visit,” I butt his shoulder as I walk by. “However, the sparring facilities are limited, Wanda and I will be down in the training room if you need us.” After dropping off our bags and changing, we stand across from each other.<br/>
            “You need to watch your left,” I point out as I get in a hit on that side for the second time in a row.<br/>
            “I miss the silent training,” she grumbles as she dives under a blow. I feel an itch rising in my throat. She lands a kick on my leg during the distraction. “I got a hit in, oh my God! I got in a hit!” I turn to the side and my body is wracked with coughs. “Nat? Are you okay?” I pull away my sleeve and see the white shirt is covered in blood. “Oh my God,” she takes on an entirely new tone.<br/>
            “It’s fine, I’m fine,” I stand up, the coughs subsiding, “It happens.”<br/>
            “This has been happening on the regular?” Wanda gasps, “You have to tell Bruce,” I shake my head. “It could be an infection or something. Didn’t you have a collapsed lung? What if you have a pulmonary hematoma?” I stare at her, “A girl at school convinced me to watch Grey’s Anatomy,” she explains sheepishly.<br/>
            I knock on the door to Banner’s lab. He looks up from his desk and walks over, opening the door. Wanda stands beside me, ensuring I do not run off or downplay my symptoms. They both wait for me to say something.<br/>
            “Natasha is coughing up blood,” Wanda states, breaking the silence.<br/>
            “For how long?” he asks, letting us in.<br/>
            “Thanksgiving?” I think of the jog I went on with Steve.<br/>
            “You never said anything!” Wanda accuses, clearly hurt that I did not confide in her.<br/>
            “Wanda, some space? Don’t you have homework?”<br/>
             “It’s Friday,” she replies hotly. I raise my eyebrows and she leaves, sulking.<br/>
            “You’re a mom,” Bruce smiles sadly, “You get to play circle of life,” I shoot him a look. Despite the peace offering on Christmas, we haven’t progressed to where we were before. “So, you’ve been coughing up blood,” he changes the subject.<br/>
            “Only after intense exercise.” He looks in my throat with a flashlight and begins a series of tests. Finally, he takes off his glasses.<br/>
            “Pulmonary hematoma.”<br/>
            “Fuck,” I curse, “That’s what Wanda said.” I can only imagine how smug she will be.<br/>
             “The only treatment I can offer is oxygen therapy and taking it easy until your lung heals.” I groan. “Sorry, I am benching you for two weeks.”<br/>
            “Wait, what?”<br/>
            “If I don’t, you’ll take it as being allowed to do whatever you want. I’m letting Cap know. You haven’t rested at all since you almost died months ago, and your body is feeling the toll. I know you have enhanced healing and all, but you need to slow down.”<br/>
            “I’ll slow down when I’m dead.”<br/>
            “That’ll come sooner than you think if you don’t take it down a notch.” I look over his shoulder into the hall.<br/>
            “I’m finally getting back to normal.”<br/>
            “Think of this as one step closer.” He goes over to his computer and types something up. “Steve and the rest of the team knows you’re benched. No getting out of it now.”</p><p> </p><p>            “So, benched, huh? Sucks.”<br/>
            “Hi Clint,” I look up from my book, we had just finished Sunday dinner.<br/>
            “Peter told me something interesting during training today,” he wanders into my room.<br/>
            “Hmm?”<br/>
            “They have a field trip this week. They’re in the same history class.”<br/>
             “Oh, that’s fun, they do go on a lot of field trips,” I flip the page.<br/>
            “They need a chaperone?”<br/>
            “You’re the chaperone?” I laugh, “Laura didn’t even let you chaperone Cooper’s field day.”<br/>
            “No, I’m in Paris this week. You are,”<br/>
            “What?” I snap the book shut.<br/>
            “I signed you up to chaperone the trip. You’ll be great. It’s tomorrow.”<br/>
            “You are impossible.” He smiles and his phone goes off. It is a FaceTime from Laura. I join, and by the time we are done, it is nearly midnight. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow! I’ll see you Thursday.” He slips out of the room.</p><p>In the morning, I go to tell Wanda that I will be chaperoning, only to find she hitched a ride to the city with Tony, thus eliminating the chance of me telling her the surprise. I arrive at school before her, nonetheless. They probably took a detour, going to the tower or out for breakfast. In her classroom. Mr. Francis rearranges his desk and fidgets with things, anything to avoid looking at me.<br/>
            “I’m not going to hurt you, Lou,” I roll my eyes, addressing him by his first name, “Unless you give Wanda a bad grade,” He doesn’t like this joke. No one ever thinks I’m funny. Students start to trickle in one by one. Their reactions are priceless and range greatly- from excited to confused to terrified. When Wanda walks in, her face pales. She grabs my arm and drags me out the room.<br/>
            “What are you doing here?”<br/>
            “I’m chaperoning your field trip, Hawkeye signed me up.”<br/>
            “The Black Widow should not be chaperoning a field trip to the Met!” she hisses.<br/>
             “My cover was blown before I even met you, remember?” I think of the big file release I did to take down Hydra, “I won’t embarrass you if that’s what you’re worried about. People know who you are too,” I point out. She sighs in resignation.<br/>
            “I guess it will be fine. Who knows? Maybe a sculpture will come alive and kill me, ending my misery.”<br/>
            “That’s the spirit.” We head back into the classroom. Wanda slides next to Peter and his friends.<br/>
            “Alright everyone, who is ready for our field trip?” No one answers Mr. Francis. I almost feel bad for him. “Our chaperone for this trip is Black Widow,” I shoot him a glare, we talked about this when I first arrived. “Sorry, our chaperone is Miss Romanoff, who has generously taken time out from her busy schedule to go to the museum with us.”<br/>
            “This is wild,” I hear a kid whisper, taking a photo.<br/>
            “Why aren’t you wearing a uniform?” another asks.<br/>
            “What’s it like to be an original Avenger?” an additional voice calls out.<br/>
            “That’s enough, the bus is waiting,” Mr. Francis opens up the door. Peter and his friends walk over to me, with Wanda trailing behind.<br/>
            “Ned and MJ, right?”<br/>
            “You know our names?” Ned breathes.<br/>
            “Of course, I have heard wonderful things from both Wanda and Peter.” Peter blushes.<br/>
            “Why aren’t you wearing your uniform?” Ned asks, echoing the other kid.<br/>
            “I’m not at work?” I laugh, “I do own other clothes,” I look down at my jeans and leather jacket.<br/>
            “What’s the scar on your neck from?” Someone asks, coming from behind. Flash, I recognize him from Peter’s Instagram.<br/>
            “None of your business,” Wanda snaps, her eyes glowing red.<br/>
            “Wanda,” Peter warns. She relaxes, powering down. The rest of the students leave, but I pull Wanda back.<br/>
            “Do I need to be worried?”<br/>
             “No.”<br/>
            “You have it under control?”<br/>
            “Yes.”<br/>
            “That didn’t look like control.”<br/>
            “He was rude to you.” She scuffs the tip of her boot on the ground.<br/>
            “Wanda, you are very kind and a good person, but I don’t need you sticking up for me. I’m a deadly assassin, remember?” she nods mutely, “Let’s go catch up with the rest of your class.” <br/>
            I find myself seated next to Ned on the bus. Peter and MJ are behind us, Wanda has managed to disappear among only thirty students.<br/>
            “Peter flings himself out of this bus on a weekly basis.” Ned whispers to me.<br/>
            “Are you tattling? Really?” Peter pokes his head over the seat, “You’re not going to tell Mr. Stark, right?” he asks nervously. I turn my attention to the front of the bus. I find Wanda, sitting with a boy two seats up. I make a mental note to ask about him later. The bus comes to a stop in front of the famous steps. We climb out and the students titter excitedly.<br/>
            “What does this have to do with history?” I ask.<br/>
            “We are examining the cultural impact of historical events and how they influence art in concurrent time periods.” MJ states, shouldering her backpack. “Ten bucks, Peter almost breaks something,”<br/>
            “I will not,” he whines, “You’re on.”<br/>
            “Easiest money I’ll ever make.”<br/>
            “I once got shot on these steps,” I tell the kids as we walk in. “That one, right there,” I nod to the fifth step from the top.<br/>
            “Miss Romanoff, I don’t know if that’s appropriate.” Mr. Louis strains.<br/>
            “You’re right. It is way more relevant for me to talk about the time I stopped someone from stealing Monet’s Water Lilies. I was undercover here for two weeks as a night janitor. It was to stop an international art smuggling ring. We ended up recovering the missing paintings from the Isabella Stuart Gardner Museum in Boston. Better yet, it turns out that the art was being used as a signal for weapons dealers-”<br/>
            “Thank you, Miss Romanoff. Now let’s get going, we have lots to see today.” He cuts me off.<br/>
            “Were you really a janitor for two weeks?” Wanda appears beside me.<br/>
            “Yes, but I didn’t do any cleaning. That was Clint’s job.” I laugh. “It was maybe a year before I worked for Tony?” she nods and melts back into the crowd.<br/>
             At lunch, I find myself at the Great Hall Balcony Café enjoying a turkey sandwich when MJ sits across from me.<br/>
            “Where are your friends?” she shrugs, and I hand her half my sandwich.<br/>
            “I like Wanda, she’s cool.”<br/>
            “Me too,” I look at the girl.<br/>
             “Like Ned said on the bus, Peter throws himself around like no one is watching. It is amazing he has a secret identity at all. You should talk to Mr. Stark about getting him to be more careful.” She takes a bite of the sandwich.<br/>
            “You are interesting, MJ.”<br/>
            “Thank you.” She leans back in her chair.<br/>
            “We should probably catch up with the rest of your class.”<br/>
            I find Wanda looking at the Little Fourteen-Year-Old Dancer. She sits on the ground, her legs crossed, staring at the sculpture.<br/>
            “You like it?”<br/>
            “Yes, she is very peaceful, she seems content.”<br/>
            “Why aren’t you with the rest of your class?” Wanda shrugs. “You have friends. Peter, MJ, and Ned all really like you.”<br/>
            “I just wanted to look around the museum alone, everyone else was rushing through to look at the pieces that Mr. Francis recommended.” She fiddles with something on her wrist, I look down at it.<br/>
            “Is that my bracelet?” she looks up with an impish grin.<br/>
            “It’s not like you need it anymore, you can just talk into the coms now, and it goes with my outfit.”<br/>
            “Yes, you can borrow it, no problem. This is the red leather jacket all over again.”<br/>
            “You told me I could have it!” She accuses.<br/>
            “After you stole it,” I tease, “Okay, these floors are filthy, come on. We should get going.” As we head towards the group, both of our phones ding. Its Cap.<br/>
            “I’m sorry, Mr. Francis, Wanda and I have to go, is that okay?” He looks relieved and I am actually a little offended.<br/>
            “Of course, please do what you have to do.” I call Happy and he arrives with the Porsche.<br/>
            “Thank you, Hap. See you on Easter?”<br/>
             “Sure thing,” I hear him mutter something under his breath about not worrying about whether or not he has a ride.<br/>
            “Has Cap said anything in the group message?” I look over to Wanda briefly before redirecting my attention to the road.<br/>
            “No, just to come up to the compound. I am honestly surprised he knows how to text.”<br/>
             “Trust me, it was not easy to teach him.” We pull up to the compound and step into the conference room.<br/>
            “Steve, what’s going on?” I look over at the screen and see Clint FaceTiming in.<br/>
            “We’ve got a mission,”<br/>
             “It’s a school night,”<br/>
             “It’s a time sensitive mission.” He explains, “Its a new terrorist cell. They hijacked a truck carrying weapons to the Ukraine. We have to get there before the weapons are distributed. They are moving them tomorrow, we have to go now.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 2, as promised! Please enjoy! As always, any feedback is appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “I am coming,” she glares at Steve.<br/>            “Natasha, you are benched for another week. You aren’t cleared, you aren’t coming.” I look over at my mentor, her jaw is clenched. Clint jumps in.<br/>            “What if we ran ops back at the hotel? No action required, I am almost done here in Paris, I can meet you there,” Cap considers this for a moment before crossing his arms. A smile splashes across Nat’s face.      <br/>            “Fine, but you will not be entering the field, understood?” She nods. We arrive in Vienna a few hours later, freezing rain sloshing down. Nat is sharpening her knives in the hotel room, despite the fact that she will not be joining us.<br/>            “I can’t believe you told Steve it’s a school night,” I whisper leaning over to her.<br/>            “You have a math test tomorrow,” she points out, looking up from her knives.<br/>            “You can’t study for math, and it makes me seem so childish.” She smirks, “Don’t say ‘well you are a child,” I can hear it already.” She laughs, putting down her knives.<br/>            “I was thinking we can go dress shopping for your Spring Fling this weekend. Maybe we can even convince Cap to stop the quinjet in Paris on our way home. Or would you prefer to wait and go in New York?”<br/>            “Won’t I miss school if we stop in Paris?”<br/>            “Well you are already missing school tomorrow whether I like it or not, we might as well make this trip enjoyable.”<br/>            “Then yes, let’s stop in Paris. We should go to that café we went to the last time we were there, with the mirrored ceilings and the bulldog named Joe,”<br/>            “It’s a date,” Cap comes into the suite’s living area.<br/>            “Nat, I already told you, you aren’t coming.” He looks over at Natasha’s knives, all polished.<br/>            “I am not letting you two go in there alone.” She opens up her duffel and takes out her catsuit.<br/>            “You are incorrigible,” I laugh. Cap’s eyebrows quirk up.<br/>            “I’ve been studying for SATs,” I explain sheepishly.<br/>            “We will leave here in an hour. And Nat, Bruce was very clear. You aren’t even supposed to go for jogs right now. I will handcuff you to the radiator if I need to,”<br/>            “I’d like to see you try,” she crosses her arms.<br/>             “Wanda and I will be in and out, a quick mission.”<br/>             “I don’t know,” Natasha looks over at me.<br/>            “I’ll be fine. Please, we have had way more intense missions than this.”       <br/>             “I just have a bad feeling,” She pulls open her laptop and begins typing. “It is weird that they were able to capture this big shipment for a first run.”<br/>            “It was bold and cocky; we’ll take them down.” Steve looks over at Clint for some help.<br/>            “Nat, everything will be okay. We all go on missions all the time. You’re being a little paranoid,” She shoots Clint a dirty look.<br/>            “We’re already here and we have to stop the weapons from hitting the market or being distributed.”<br/>            “We’ll be on coms that whole time.” Cap backs me up. I smile at him.<br/>            “You are all ganging up on me and I hate you.” She groans, shifting her computers position on her lap. “In and out, right?”</p><hr/><p><br/>            We arrive at the warehouse on the edge of the city. Ten miles away, Clint and Natasha are shutting down the security cameras. The spotlights go out. That’s our cue. We bust in. There is a rain of gunfire immediately. Cap throws his shield, it bounces around like a pinball game, taking out four targets. I send blast after blast of my powers, working towards what the building plans said was a storeroom. More people keep coming.<br/>            “How many guards do they have in this place?” I ask.<br/>            “There should be twelve on guard tonight,” Clint replies.<br/>            “Well there are way more than twelve,” Steve breathes heavily.<br/>            “What are you looking at?” Nat asks.<br/>            “At least thirty so far, there seem to be more coming, all in tactical gear.” An explosion goes off to my left. “What the fuck was that?”<br/>            “I was going to ask the same thing,” she answers, levelheaded.<br/>            “It looks like a reactor weapon of some kind,” Cap explains, throwing one of the men into the wall. It goes off again, putting a hole in the wall behind me. On the flight in, Steve explained that Tony and Vision were dealing with something in Hawaii. Bruce was performing surgery. Sam is undercover. We are operating on a barebones team, and this seems like a full force mission. We finally make our way to the storage room and I push open the door. There is more than one truckload of weapons. Pallets upon pallets of crates and shipping containers line the space in neat, orderly lines. Our intel was wrong. This is not a new terrorist group.<br/>            “They must have been working for months, if not longer.” I breath. I run through the aisles, quickly taking inventory of the boxes. The writing on them varies greatly. English, Chinese, German, Arabic. This is a global operation. And we are here with two Avengers. Our goal was to stop this group before they become too large. We are far too late.<br/>            “What are you looking at, Wanda?” Nat asks.<br/>            “This is bad. These guys are more sophisticated than we thought,”<br/>            “Do you guys need backup?” Clint doesn’t wait for an answer. “We will be there in ten,” There is a clamor behind me, and I send a machine flying taking out two more terrorists. <br/>         Suddenly, someone is screaming. It is loud and piercing, a wail of agony. It takes a moment for me to realize its me. There is a searing pain radiating from my leg. The com is taken from my ear and crushed beneath someone’s foot. They pull me off the ground, I didn’t even realize I had collapsed. Someone wraps their arm around my neck, pressing me against their body and propping me up.<br/>            “Wanda,” Cap freezes, staring at me. I feel the cold barrel of a gun press against my temple.<br/>            “Take out the com,” he commands, his German accent thick. “And crush it,” Cap takes the heel of his foot, breaking the communication device. “Now put the shield down and put your hands on your head or I will shoot the little one’s brains out,” I feel lightheaded. I am losing a lot of blood. I can’t look down at my leg to see the damage. Cap slowly does as he asks.<br/>            “Where are we taking them?” one of the men asks. I watch in shock as he takes a needle and injects it into Cap’s neck. He seems just as surprised. The shock turns to horror as Cap slumps over, losing consciousness.<br/>            “Take them to the Slaughterhouse. We are going to have to postpone moving the weapons to tomorrow.”<br/>            “Come,” he drags my body and I cry out in pain. Something chafes against my wrist. Nat’s bracelet. I try to remember the button to push. Number one is prepare for extraction, two is Hulk’s lullaby, three is Clint’s been shot. Eight. It is eight. I fade out.</p><p>When I come through, I am in a cell of some kind. I try to move, but I am cuffed to a drain on the floor by a leash of some kind. My hands are bound to my side.<br/>            “Wanda?” its Cap. “Wanda, are you okay?” I struggle to lift my head.<br/>            “Hm?”<br/>            “Are you okay?”<br/>            “I don’t think so,” my words blend together.<br/>            “Please stay awake, the team will be here soon. close my eyes, “I wish they hadn’t taken our coms.” Cap curses.<br/>            “Bracelet,” I murmur, my thoughts are muddled.<br/>            “What bracelet?”<br/>            “Widow’s com bracelet,” I close my eyes. “Steve, I think I’m dying,” A laugh bubbles up in my throat. “I am going to miss my math test,” I laugh at the absurdity.<br/>             “You will not die. Can you move your arms? Blast the cell door open?”<br/>            “They are bound, I can’t move.” I begin to cry. Something is wrong, the pain is disappearing. The pain isn’t supposed to go away. Everything is getting quiet.<br/>            “Wanda, please stay with me,”</p><p>            The floor is shaking, I think I hear a bomb go off in the distance. My cheek is pressed against the rough cement floor. I am not dead yet. I feel like I should be dead. The floor around my head is stained with blood. Most of it looks old, though some fresh. I think some of it is mine. They called it the Slaughterhouse. I don’t know if it is for cattle or people. Perhaps both. I try to roll over but nearly pass out from the pain, my consciousness wavering. Even if I could look at my leg, I don’t know that I would want to. I can imagine that the wound will become infected from sitting in this cell, going untreated. It is going to leave a large scar no matter what. I close my eyes. Footsteps echo nearby, someone is running. They are coming to finish me off, put me out of my misery. I will be with Pietro again, and my parents. The thought soothes me. But Nat. And Clint. And Vision. All of them. I don’t want to leave them. <em>You don’t have a choice</em>, a voice echoes in my head.<br/>            “Steve? Why are you in a cell? You aren’t even chained up.” Clint snorts. Clint?<br/>            “Paralytic of some kind, its only just wearing off.”<br/>            “Where is Wanda?” I force myself to stay awake. “Steve, where is Wanda?” she repeats. The world is fuzzy and soft. The sound of metal clanging clouds my senses. A face appears in front of me, swimming. It is like a bleeding watercolor, but I recognize the hair. I’d recognize the hair anywhere.<br/>            “Nat?”<br/>            “You’re okay,” her voice hitches, “We’re going to get you out of here.”<br/>            “It worked?” I think of the bracelet. I feel a calm settle over me. I saved Steve. I did it. I can rest.<br/>            “Yes, it was so smart. You did well, Little Witch, really.” She strokes my forehead and I feel wet drops hit my face as she leans over me. Natasha pulls away and sets to work on the chain pinning me to the ground.<br/>            “Nat, we can’t move her like this.” A voice murmurs, I think its Clint.<br/>            “Well we can’t leave her here,” I feel the metal chain around my neck loosen. “Clint, help me!” Desperation seeps into her voice. “Please, I can’t, we can’t,”<br/>            “Okay,” he bends down next to me. “I am going to carry her out, you help Cap.”<br/>            “I can’t leave her.”<br/>             “Nat, all of us have to get out here. You won’t be able to carry her like this. Go help Cap.” I feel Clint’s arms brush up against me as he picks me up. “You’re going to be okay, you can rest, it’s okay.” I close my eyes, drifting off.<br/>            When I wake up again, I think we are on the quinjet. Natasha is sitting next to me, holding my hand. There are tubes sticking out of me in a dozen places. I fumble to remove the oxygen mask.<br/>            “You’re crying?” she sniffles and wipes her eyes, sitting up straighter.<br/>            “No, I’m not. When have you every known me to cry? Come on Maximoff,” She scoffs, her bravado is weak.<br/>            “It’s that bad, huh? Am I going to die?” I am surprisingly calm. I think Natasha’s level head is beginning to rub off on me. Or maybe I am in shock.<br/>            “We are going to have the best doctors in the world working on you,” she assures me, squeezing my hand tighter<br/>            “You didn’t answer the question,” I reply, but not answering was answer enough.<br/>            “You need to rest, sweet girl.” She places the oxygen mask back over my mouth. She hums softly and strokes my hair until I fall asleep once more.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahhh!! I know, a cliffhanger, I am the worst. The next chapter will be out tomorrow! Thank you for the awesome comments on the last chapter and thank you for following along! -Carly</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As promised: Chapter 3! I felt so bad about the cliffhanger that I rushed to post this update! Thank you all for your amazing comments on chapter 2. Enjoy! As always, all feedback is appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            There is a bright lining shining down on me. Voices are muffled, filtering in and out. Everything is blurred. Splash of red enters my line of sight and a gentle hand strokes my face. Everything is fading. Someone is yelling, screaming. Everything feels heavy, like I am conscious of my own gravity for a moment. My body is too still, there is no pumping. This isn’t supposed to happen. I feel a sharp volt of electricity traveling through my body. I try to sort out my thoughts, confused. I am supposed to be with the team in Vienna. This happened in Brazil. This isn’t right. My vision is starting to tunnel and get darker. Another jolt of electricity, the world opens up. People are yelling again. I can’t make out their words. A mask is slipped over my face and everything comfortably fades.<br/>
            There is a bright light again. I turn my head to the side and see Tony and Natasha arguing in the hallway, gesturing to my room. I recognize the hall of the medical wing. Clint appears, handing Natasha a cup of something, probably coffee. Maybe vodka. Dr. Cho walks over. She begins to speak to Natasha. The cup slips out of her hand and to the ground, splaying dark liquid all over the floor. Clint pulls her into a hug and Tony nods to the doctor who turns to come into my room. I close my eyes, feigning sleep until it actually comes.<br/>
            I feel warm sunlight hit my face and blink open my eyes sleepily. I’m no longer in the medical wing, but in my bedroom at the compound. The room is just as I left it. The guitar resting on its stand. A shirt hanging out of the laundry basket after a lazy throw. Despite being in my suite, this is not my bed. There are plastic guard rails up and I am surrounded by machines. The beeping of the heart monitor fills the otherwise silent room. There are IVs sticking out of my arms, and stickers on my chest, connecting wires to more machines. However, the oxygen mask has been removed and replaced with something less substantial, two small tubes rest at my nose, sending in air. Natasha is sleeping in my armchair, curled into a tight ball. Her hair is a mess, tangled and in a rushed ponytail. She had changed out of her catsuit and now wears leggings and what seems to be Steve’s sweatshirt. Questions begin to flood my head and I cannot be alone any longer.<br/>
            “Nat?” I whisper. She wakes up instantly, ready to spring into action if needed. I wonder what one has to go through that every time you wake up, you are prepared to fight for your life. However, she relaxes when she sees me.<br/>
            “Hi Little Witch,” she scoots the armchair closer to the bed. Her eyes are more haunted than usual, and the bags underneath are pronounced. For only the second time since we have met, I can see her age. I spot at least three to-go coffee cups on my nightstand. She has been fighting to stay awake. If Nat has been fighting to stay awake, it has been days.<br/>
            “I didn’t die,” I joke, trying to make her smile. She does, but its forced and laced with pain.<br/>
            “How are you feeling?” she asks, brushing my hair away from my face.<br/>
            “Fine, I must be on a lot of painkillers,”<br/>
            “Do you remember what happened?”<br/>
            “Cap and I were attacked and kidnapped, I used the bracelet.”<br/>
            “That was quick thinking. Clint was very confused when I said ‘Hey, could use a little help’ without opening my mouth. It activated the location beacon in the bracelet. It saved both you and Steve.” She straightens the comforter. “You were so brave,” Natasha praises again. Something isn’t right. This is too much praise; she is laying it on too thick.<br/>
            “We go on missions all the time. You’ve seen my contain a bomb with my mind as it exploded.” She looks away. My bedroom door creaks open and Dr. Cho walks in.<br/>
            “Hello Wanda, glad to see you’re awake.” She holds her tablet close to her chest, like a life preserver.<br/>
            “Something is wrong.” I look between the two women, “You never give this much praise, and you look like someone died,” I feel my heart stop. “Did Steve die?” The machines notice my panic, beeping loudly. Nat said I saved us both, but what if I didn’t? They had that serum that paralyzed Captain America, what was in it? Who were these people? Is Steve dead?<br/>
            “Steve is very much alive and waiting in the hall,” Natasha grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. The lifeline squeeze. I don’t know if it for her or me, but something bad has happened.<br/>
            “Tell me what’s wrong,” I ask looking over to the doctor. Her eyes drift over to Nat, “No, don’t look at her, look at me. What is wrong?” I demand again. Natasha would have the doctor sugarcoat everything for me, to soften the blow. I need to hear it outright.<br/>
            “Wanda, I’m so sorry.” She walks over to the bed, her tablet still held tight, to the point her knuckles are paling, “We had to amputate a significant portion of your right leg.” Dr. Cho waits for a reaction. I look down to the comforter that is covering my lower half. It hadn’t occurred to me to check if my leg was still there. That is not something I ever thought I would need to do. I try to wiggle my toes and feel nothing. I rip off the blankets. My leg seems to stop at the knee. There are layers of gauze and bandages so thick that it almost doubled the width of my thigh. I stare at it, waiting for the illusion to be over and for my shin and foot to appear again.<br/>
            “Wanda?” Natasha squeezes my hand again, bringing me back to the present.<br/>
            “You can put it back though, right? Like how you repaired Clint chest and gave Nat a new trachea. Tell me you can put it back,”<br/>
            “I’m sorry, Wanda. Your leg was only still attached by a few ligaments, and the wound was too old. The lower part of your leg quickly began to decay.” I feel myself blanche, my leg was rotting off. I think I am going to throw up. The idea that my leg was decomposing while still attached to my body. It doesn’t seem possible. It isn’t possible.<br/>
            “Really, Doc? Really?” Nat snaps. Dr Cho looks over to her apologetically.<br/>
            “No. I asked her to tell me.” I take a deep breath, waiting for her words to sink in. My leg is gone. My right leg is gone.<br/>
            “I missed my math test,” I say suddenly, looking over at Natasha. I don’t know why that is all my thoughts can go to.<br/>
            “That isn’t important, Little Witch.” She soothes. The shock is starting to wear off. The thoughts start flowing in quickly. The what ifs are increasing in tenacity and ferocity.<br/>
            “I would like to be alone,”<br/>
            “Of course,” Dr. Cho turns around to leave the room. I look to Natasha.<br/>
            “I want to be alone,” I repeat. She pulls her hand away like I burned her. I look down and see my hand glowing red.<br/>
            “It’s fine, I’m okay,” She reassure quickly. “We’ll be out in the hall. Take as much time as you need. I nod to her and the door shuts with a click. I pull the covers up to my neck, trying to push down the crippling fear that begins to fill me.</p><p>            They are going to get rid of me. They are sending me off, back to Sokovia. The existential dread of knowing what is coming is overwhelming. I cannot imagine how I am going to survive. Maybe they will let me stay in the United States.<br/>
            There is a light knock at the door. Nat walks in, she’s wearing fresh clothes and it looks like she showered.<br/>
            “Hi,” She sits down on the bed, right were my right calf should be. I feel a rush of courage and jump on it before it disappears.<br/>
            “What is going to happen to me? What are you going to do with me?” I look at her, fearing the answer.<br/>
            “What in the world are you talking about?”<br/>
            “I’m not useful anymore. I can’t be on the Avengers, I’m a cripple. Can you try to make it so I stay in the US? I don’t want to go back,”<br/>
            “We aren’t getting rid of you, Wanda. Why would you even think that?”<br/>
            “Because I am no use to you guys anymore,” Natasha takes a deep breath, like she is trying to maintain her composure.<br/>
            “We would never get rid of you; you are a part of our family.”<br/>
             “But what can I do now?”<br/>
            “I don’t care what you can do now, I care that you are still alive. When you flatlined,” she stops talking.<br/>
            “I died?” my heart jumps to my throat.<br/>
            “It was only for a moment, your body was under so much stress, your heart gave out. But it was started again almost instantly.”<br/>
            “I remember it,” I realize, “I thought I was back in Brazil.” Natasha’s eyes soften.<br/>
            “I am sorry, but you are never getting rid of us, especially me. You are stuck with us for the rest of your very long life. I will be there when you graduate high school, when you graduate college, and I will even duel Clint on who gets to walk you down the aisle on your wedding day. I will never abandon you; do you understand?” I nod, biting my lip. She gets up and walks to the other side of the bed, putting down the railing. The bed shifts from her movement as she lies down next to me. “Wanda, you are so much more than what you can do. You are kind, smart, sarcastic, stubborn, funny, and the list goes on forever. You are more than your powers, more than an Avenger. I don’t know what is coming, but I promise I will be there every step of the way.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have been waiting for you all to read this chapter for a week! Thank you so much for following along to this story and your incredible support. Another special shout out to my favorite commentators, your constant feedback has made a huge difference in keeping this story alive! Next chapter will be out either Monday or Tuesday. Thank you again! -Carly</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a bit of a filler chapter before I get into some of the other things I want to happen in this story! Unfortunately, i am regretting choosing this plot out of the three i drafted up but as they say, I've made my bed and now i must lie in it! Not to worry though, there is plenty that is coming up! I hope you enjoy this chapter! As always, any feedback is appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            I wake up to Natasha sleeping in the armchair, partially leant over on the bed. In the past week, she hadn’t left my room for more than an hour, and that was only to shower.  I think this is the first time she has slept in days. Her phone is gripped tightly in her hand. No one will talk to me about how the weapons recovery went, and based on that alone, I have a feeling it didn’t go well. I try to get comfortable on the pillows, which is no easy feat. I am getting antsy, sick of this bed.<br/>
            “Wanda?” Natasha sits upright quickly, “Are you okay?” I wince.<br/>
            “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,”<br/>
            “It wasn’t a good position for my neck anyways,” she stretches, “Did the nurse come in to change your bandages?” I nod. “You know everyone really wants to come in and see you, right?”<br/>
            “They’re all still here?” My heart sinks. I don’t want them to come in, to look at the sheets covering my leg and then look at me with pity. It’s exactly what Tony did when he came in. He didn’t even provide a sarcastic remark.<br/>
            “If you don’t want to see them, you don’t have to,” she stands up, “You do, however, need to eat, what can I get you?”<br/>
            “You literally only know how to make sandwiches. And pancakes, kind of.”<br/>
            “Okay, so do you want a pancake or a sandwich?” She puts her hands on her hips.<br/>
             “Surprise me,” I say with a tired smile. She leaves the room and I am alone. I feel the weight on my chest increase.<br/>
            “Hi Wanda,”<br/>
            “Vision, Jesus Christ,” I look over at the android, he had phased through the wall. “What are you doing in here?”<br/>
            “I wanted to check on you, I have been worried,”<br/>
            “I’m fine.” I draw my mouth into a thin line.<br/>
            “You haven’t been accepting visitors.”<br/>
            “Yet here you are.”<br/>
            “You are angry, my apologies.”<br/>
            “I just don’t want anyone to see me like this, Vis. It’s nothing personal.”<br/>
            “But you will be like this for the rest of your life, correct?” He looks confused.<br/>
            “Vision, leave.” The weight on my chest and beginning to feel crushing.<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “Get out!” I close my eyes, when I open them, he’s gone. I need air, I need to get out of here. My wheelchair is on the other side of the room. I try to use my powers to summon it over, but the red tendrils only flicker before going out. I am going to scream. The door opens and Natasha walks in with a sandwich.<br/>
            “Woah, it’s okay, calm down,” she rushes over to me, placing the sandwich on the nightstand. I catch a glance at myself in the mirror on the dresser, my eyes are glowing fiercely. I look away, dimming my powers. “What’s going on?”<br/>
            “Vision came to visit, he wasn’t helpful.” I grumble, looking down at the sandwich. My appetite is gone.<br/>
            “I’m sorry, I am sure he meant well,” she purses her lips. I can imagine the verbal lashing he will be receiving from Nat and I almost feel guilty. “Will you eat though? I used that ridiculous fancy jelly you like,” she holds out the sandwich. I take it halfheartedly to appease her. “Do you want to watch TV? Or I can go grab you another book. I have Pride and Prejudice in Japanese,” I finish the sandwich, it sits like a brick in my stomach.<br/>
            “Actually Nat, I think I’m going to take a nap,”<br/>
            “Okay, whatever you want, Little Witch,” she pulls the shades shut and turns off the lights, leaving the room.</p><p>            I wake up and look over to the doorway. Natasha has it slightly open, but is preventing someone from entering.<br/>
            “I’m going to taker her home, back to our apartment,”<br/>
             “She has around the clock care here, Nat. There are doctors and nurses,”<br/>
            “Tony, I am grateful for all that you have done, but I think she needs a break from the compound, a break from being an Avenger.”<br/>
            “But,”<br/>
            “I think we could both use a break.” She admits. “I am taking her home,” Natasha states with finality. She closes the door softly and turns around. “Oh, you’re awake. And you heard all that.”<br/>
            “I want to go home,” I agree, surprised by how thick my voice is.<br/>
            “I’ll pack up your things and we will leave ASAP.” She goes into the bathroom and comes out with my medical equipment, packing them carefully into my duffel. “Is there anything in the closet that you want to bring?”<br/>
            “No,” I look over at the wheelchair and feel a spike of hatred.<br/>
            “We’ll have to come back in a few days for the prosthetics specialist Tony is flying in from Boston,” I can tell she is talking more to herself than me, “We’re going to have to take the SUV,” she grabs the bag, leaving to load up the car. Natasha is going to have to leave her Porsche to fit all of my equipment; the car she lovingly refers to as the Widow Mobile when she is in a particularly good mood.<br/>
            “Why are you crying? Are you in pain?” Natasha rushes over, panicking.<br/>
             “We’re leaving behind your car,”<br/>
            “Wanda, please tell me you are not crying about the Porsche staying on the compound.”<br/>
            “I feel bad! It’s like your child,”<br/>
            “Would you prefer I leave my actual child here?” She raises her eyebrows and then her cheeks flush, realizing what she said. A surprising warmth fills me. “Let’s get going,” she brings my chair over to the edge of the bed. Carefully, I wrap my arm over her shoulder, and we do an awkward lift into the chair. We prepare to leave, and I feel my heartbeat pick up. “Clint ordered everyone to mandatory training in the gym,”<br/>
            “Does he have the authority to do that?”<br/>
            “No, but I don’t think anyone was going to question him.” Natasha laughs. She opens the door and I wheel out of the room. As promised, the living area is empty. The SUV is out front, still running. “Okay, on my count,” It feels humiliating, degrading, to not be able to get in and out of a car by myself. As we pull away from the compound and I feel the pressure on my chest lessen a little. We drive in silence, Natasha frequently taking her eyes off the road to look over at me with a nervous smile. The car pulls up to our building, it is starting to get dark, the early spring chill entering the air. The valet quickly takes the keys, avoiding looking at me as Natasha helps me out of the car. Inside, the concierge quickly rushes to get the elevator for us. We head up to the 22<sup>nd</sup> floor. The thick pile on the rug slows down the chair, pulling it forward becomes a lot more difficult. Natasha goes to grab the back.<br/>
            “I’ve got it!” I snap, and then instantly feel bad. She is just trying to help. She unlocks the door to our apartment. Inside, furniture has been rearranged. The coffee table has been moved further away from the couch, and the couch itself was pushed over to give a larger opening towards the hallways that leads to our bedrooms.<br/>
            “I had your bathroom renovated, I hope that’s okay,” Thankfully, the hardwood floors are easier to push the chair through than the carpet. My bedroom looks the same, but when I look in the bathroom, I see a new shower has been put in. It’s much larger now, with a marble bench wrapping around. There is a subtle lip sticking out around waist height as well, for me to grab as support. Natasha put a lot of thought into this. I can’t even figure out when she had time to have everything done.<br/>
            “Thank you,” She smiles.<br/>
            “Of course, now what do you want to do for dinner? We could do Chinese, or maybe Thai?”<br/>
            “I’m not very hungry,”<br/>
            “Okay, how about pierogis? I think we have some in the freezer.” She leaves my room and goes into the kitchen. I sigh heavily and follow her out. “So the physical therapist is coming in tomorrow, it took some work but I got him to agree to house calls,” she flashes a smile and I am scared to know which Black Widow route of convincing she used “Now, we don’t have any kielbasa but we have breakfast sausage, does that work?”<br/>
            “No,” I laugh, “Not even close to the same thing.”<br/>
            “The only other food we have are pizza rolls or frozen blueberries.”<br/>
            “We should have ordered takeout,”</p><p><br/>
            The physical therapist comes in the morning following a visit from the doctor. I had been cleared to start PT and to be fitted for my prosthetic, which was expected. I wheel myself to the gym and see him. He reminds me of Tony, who probably found him. His name is Chad. Of course it is. It was going to be a long hour.<br/>
            “Can’t you just do my physical therapy? You’ve gone through it yourself enough times,”<br/>
            “I don’t have a degree in it, I tried to get the doctor to agree to it. It’s a no go,” She explains afterwards, handing me an apple. She had gone grocery shopping during my physical therapy. I had never seen our kitchen so well stocked. “I think it’s good for you to talk to someone other than me. I got a text from Peter today, he said you haven’t been answering him.”<br/>
            “My phone is dead,”<br/>
            “Your phone has been dead for a week?” She looks at me doubtfully.<br/>
            “I forgot to charge it,”<br/>
            “Everyone really wants to see you,”<br/>
            “I really don’t want to see them,” I take a bite of my apple. I wait for her to push it, but she drops the subject.<br/>
            “It was good to see you walking around again at the end of physical therapy,”<br/>
            “You mean the walker that makes me seem like I’m 100 years old?”<br/>
            “Don’t let Cap hear you say that, he would be offended,” she jokes. Her eyes, however, are filled with concern.<br/>
            “I’m tired, I’m going to go take a nap.” I push away from the table, rolling to my bedroom. I look at the bed and down at the chair. I am too prideful to go ask Natasha for help, not after storming off. After locking the chair, I stand up unsteadily on one leg, gripping the nightstand for support and lean forward, using my other arm to grip the bottom sheet, pulling myself up quickly before it comes untucked. I flail for a moment before managing to get onto the bed by myself. I feel a rush of pride at my accomplishment, outshining the pain from slamming my stump on the bed. I roll onto my bad and pull up the sheets.<br/>
            There is a knock at my window. I roll over and see Spider-Man pulling it open. I can’t believe I forgot to lock it. He jumps inside, popping out the screen.<br/>
            “Crap, did I wake you up?”<br/>
            “Peter, what are you doing here? Someone could have seen you,”<br/>
            “Everyone knows that Scarlet Witch, Black Widow, and Spider-Man know each other.” He closes the window and takes off his mask. “I was getting worried, I haven’t heard from you.”<br/>
            “Well as you can see, I’m not dead. You can go now.” He is undeterred.<br/>
            “When are you coming back to school?”<br/>
            “I don’t know, I’m a little busy at the moment.”<br/>
            “Ned and MJ are asking about you.” He smiles, “I forgot, I got you something,” he reached into his backpack and pulls out a bouquet of flowers, they are completely crushed. “Sorry, someone bumped into me on the subway.”<br/>
            “Hey Wanda,” Natasha opens the bedroom door, “Oh Peter, hi,”<br/>
            “Hi Nat,”<br/>
            “Wanda didn’t tell me you were coming to visit,”<br/>
            “He didn’t tell me,”<br/>
            “I texted you five times,” he groans. I look over to Natasha. I want him to leave. But I can tell by the look in her eyes that I will have to do it myself. She closes the door.<br/>
            “Peter, can you please go? I’m not feeling up for company,” I hope for this approach to work. It’s seems to.<br/>
            “Oh yeah, of course. I’ll just leave these here.” He places the flowers on my nightstand “Text me, okay?” He puts back on his mask and places the screen back in place behind him. I pull the sheets up around me and hope to fall asleep.<br/>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter should be up by Wednesday! The next chapter to Welcome Home would be done... except that i wrote it after watching the new episode of Brooklyn 99 so it came out like a buddy cop comedy (hilarious, but not on theme lol) Also, updates will be a bit slow this week, so sorry! I have a case study due (I work full time &amp; a full time grad student) and will be visiting family this weekend, so it is unlikely many new chapters will be out. However, we will be back to our normal update speed of every two days or so by Monday! Thank you all as always for your feedback and can't wait for you to read what happens next!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>******trigger warning for depression*****</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 5! Hope you are all having an awesome day! Posting during my lunch break rather than at midnight, a big change up lol! Sorry if the formatting is a bit wonky, I typed it on my phone, I will try and fix it tonight! As always, feedback is always welcome, as are requests! Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   </p><p>Wanda sleeps in the passenger seat as we drive upstate towards the Avengers compound. It is a relief, over the past two days, her pain has been so intense she has barely slept. No pain meds seemed to be strong enough. Then the phantom limb pains began. The anguish she was feeling was crushing to me, to her it must have been debilitating. I put the car in park and take a deep breath, not quite ready to go in<br/>
          “Wanda, we’re here,” she blinks open her eyes sleepily, and for a moment she smiles. Then she seems to remember, her smile disappears from her face and is replaced by a cold blank expression so much like one of my own I am taken aback. “Okay, let’s do this,”<br/>
          I go to the other side of the car to help her out and she settles into the chair more gracefully than our previous attempts. I know if I say this aloud I’ll be met with a sarcastic quip about how it’s something we never should have gotten good at. A ramp has been put over half the front steps, making entering the facility much less of a hassle.<br/>
           “Do you want me to come?” I ask as we near the gym where the prosthetics specialist has been set up.<br/>
               “No, you’re supposed to meet with Bruce. I’ll be fine.” She pushes open the door with her good leg, going in, and it slams behind her. <br/>
           “Nat,” I turn around and smile at Clint.<br/>
           “Hey, good to see you.”<br/>
           “You look awful,”<br/>
          “That is exactly what every woman wants to hear Clint,” I begin to make my way towards Bruce’s lab. <br/>
           “Seriously, you’re supposed to be taking it easy,”<br/>
          “I am,” We reach the lab, Clint doesn’t budge. “Would you like to join?” I ask, rolling my eyes. He nods and we head in. <br/>
          “I haven’t gone on a mission in thirteen days,” I point out as I sit down on the examination table.<br/>
          “Nat, you weren’t cleared to go on any missions,” Bruce spins around in his chair, rolling over from his desk. <br/>
           “It wasn’t an optional mission,” <br/>
          “I know,” Bruce sympathizes. He begins his examination, frown deepening, “Deep breath,” I start coughing to my own embarrassment. “You aren’t letting your body rest even if you aren’t jumping out of planes and scaling buildings,” <br/>
          “I can’t rest. You know how hard it is to run ops from my apartment?” I snap. <br/>
           “You shouldn’t be running operations at all,” Tony points out, appearing in the doorway. <br/>
           “Is HIPAA just not a thing anymore? Please, everyone come learn my medical history,”<br/>
           “Stop it,” Clint nudges me. <br/>
          “We didn’t get back in time to stop them from distributing the weapons, anything that happens out there on us,” I point out.<br/>
           “My mics were still running after they were crushed, Red. We know exactly who bought them up and where they went. Cap and Sam are on it, they’ve acquired two of the eight shipments already.” <br/>
          “With my help! I have been running schematics, risk assessment, blueprints.” <br/>
           “They can handle it,”<br/>
          “That’s what Steve said before, and look what happened!” I look down at my hands, embarrassed by my outburst. No matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, a piece of myself blames him. There is no way he could have known how perilous the operation was. “We don’t know how they got or developed a paralytic strong enough for Cap.” They don’t have an answer for this. “Whoever they are, they’re dangerous and more of a threat than we realized.” <br/>
           “Cap and Sam are twelve hours ahead of us right now, you can’t keep working all night and then being with Wanda all day, your body is going to shut down.”<br/>
           “It will not,” I scoff. “Caps gone, I’m in charge, and we have work to do,” I stand up from the table. <br/>
           “Natasha, I’m not clearing you.” Bruce admits. I shoot him a dirty look. “I’m sorry, but you are in no shape to run missions. You had a chest tube for two days, your lungs weren’t working on their own.”<br/>
           “It’s supposed to be eight weeks max to recover from a punctured lung,” <br/>
           “Everything doesn’t always work out the way we want. You put stress on your body when you should have been resting.” <br/>
           “Natasha, go home. We’ll be here when you get back. You were right, a break will do you good,” Tony offers. <br/>
           “When can I come back?” <br/>
           “Let’s check in again in a month,”<br/>
           “A month? I will be fine in another week! I have the distinct feeling you are all ganging up on me,” I can imagine them talking about this be I arrived. <br/>
           “Natasha, someone else needs you home,” Clint whispers. <em>Oh</em>. <br/>
           “Look at that, someone domesticated a Black Widow,”</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>              I find Wanda in the common room, staring blankly out the window. <br/>
             “Hey, you ready to go?”<br/>
             “Sure,” she turns her chair around slowly and follows me out front. <br/>
             “Do you want to stop for a bite to eat on the way home? There’s this great place I went to with Pepper once,”<br/>
             “No, I want to go home,” she rests her head on the window. We pull off the compound. <br/>
             “How did it go with the specialist? Did he do a fitting?” <br/>
             “Yes, he said we’ll get it in two or three weeks.” <br/>
             “I’m sure Tony is working on something too, some advanced prosthetic that will shoot lasers or something,” I glance briefly at her. She hasn’t moved her eyes off the passing trees. I turn on the music, unable to sit in the deafening silence. <br/>
            Back at the apartment, Wanda heads directly into her room, the door shutting behind her. She needs space. I go into the library and pull out my laptop, running through transcriptions of the data Tony’s coms picked up. There are four hundred pages left to read through, I set to work. Two hundred pages in, there’s a crash. <br/>
             “FRIDAY, initiate No Place Like Home Protocol,” Instantly, metal plates slide over the windows. I run into Wanda’s room, she’s not there. My heart is pounding. I see a light coming out from the bathroom door. I try the knob and it’s locked. I quickly kick it open, my gun drawn. <br/>
            Instead of an invader, I find a tear soaked Wanda sitting on the floor in her bathrobe. The wheelchair is flipped on its side and lies a few feet away. I lower my gun. <br/>
             “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” I crouch down in front of her. <br/>
             “Besides my pride and self-respect? No,” she leans back against the glass wall of the shower. <br/>
             “It’s okay to ask for help, I’m right here,”<br/>
             “That’s rich coming from you, you’re the queen of independence.” <br/>
             “Wanda,”<br/>
             “You don’t get it!” She pinched her lips, trying not to cry more. “Even when you lost your voice, no one could see what was wrong with you. No one would look at you and know you’re damaged goods,”<br/>
             “You aren’t,”<br/>
             “Yes I am. Don’t try to lie to me.” I turn around a sit down next to her. For a few minutes, it’s silent. “What am I going to do, who is going to want me?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. <br/>
             “Oh Wanda,” I pull her in against my chest. She cries into my shirt. “I think anyone who doesn’t want you is out of their mind.” <br/>
             “I can’t do anything, I can’t even shower by myself,”<br/>
             “You’ll get there, it’s barely been a week.” <br/>
             “I don’t want to get there, I want to be there! I want this to have never happened!” Her sides are heaving. <br/>
             “I know, what you are going through is a horrible thing. It is unfair and cruel,” she calms down, listening to my words, “I may not know what you are experiencing, but I still understand that it is a life changing event. I understand that you are frustrated, and angry, and sad. You are allowed to be those things. It’s okay to not be okay, Wanda.” Her large doe eyes look into mine and I see a flicker of lightness, of hope, but it dims just as fast.  I push her hair away from her face and pull it into a loose braid. “Let’s get off the floor, okay?” I offer my hand and pull her off the ground. <br/>
             “I just want to go to bed,”<br/>
            “Didn’t you want to shower?” <br/>
             “Not anymore,” I help her back to her room. She has stopped crying, but part of me feels as though that is a bad thing.</p><p> </p><p>            I sit in the kitchen, waiting for her physical therapist to be done. Wanda has barred me from any sessions, claiming that it is too much pressure. She heads straight to her room after PT. When I look hopefully to Chad, he shakes his head. Today was not a good day. It had been a week since we got back from the compound and things seem to be getting worse, even if physically Wanda is doing better. I knock on her bedroom door and see her on her phone in bed, scrolling. <br/>
             “Tonight’s the dance,” she murmurs, looking up at me from her phone. I had completely forgot. She has been talking about going to a school dance for nearly two years, and tonight that was supposed to finally happen. A normal moment in an extraordinary life that she so desperately craved.<br/>
                   “We can have our own Spring Formal here. We can put on old gala dresses and I can make bad fruit punch and play Top 40 Songs,” <br/>
             “They don’t have punch bowls at dances, that isn’t real. Kids would spike it.” She puts down her phone, “I was supposed to go to a party after with my friends. I was going to get drunk and not tell you and play beer pong. I was supposed to wear a pretty dress and have my hair done while dancing the night away.”<br/>
             “You can have a glass of wine with dinner if you’d like,” She smiles weakly at my effort. “I think I am just going to watch TV,” she pulls up Netflix and queues up Black Mirror. “I thought you were watching New Girl and Parks and Recreation,” <br/>
             “I don’t like them anymore,” she stares blankly at the screen. <br/>
             “But you love sitcoms,”<br/>
             “Not anymore,” Her phones lights up. Rather than answer the text, she places it face down on her nightstand. <br/>
             “Do you mind if I join you? I haven’t seen this episode,” <br/>
             “Honestly Nat, I would rather be alone right now. Can you close the door behind you?” She presses play on the show. I leave the room and sit outside her door, waiting to see if she needs anything, if she changes her mind. I am failing. I am helpless as I watch her become a shell of who she used to be.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The was super heavy to write, sorry it’s a bit shorter than usual! I hope you enjoyed it (idk if ‘enjoy’ is the write word here), but any who... I really appreciate the feedback and comments I have been getting, they really help so much, I’m so grateful to my readers and commenters! If you have any requests, especially my frequent commenters, I will try hard to integrate them into the store! Thank you again and can’t wait to get the next chapter to you all!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*********trigger warning for depression*********</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 6! It may be the last chapter I get out until Tuesday, but I am hoping to get one more out this weekend! Please enjoy! As always, any feedback is really appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>          “Wanda?” I blink, “Are you okay? You’ve been in there a while,” I’m sitting on the floor of the shower. At some point, the water went from scalding to freezing. My teeth chatter. I grab one of the grips Nat had installed and turn off the water. “Do you need any help?”<br/>          “No.” I grab onto the towel bar and sit on the chair. This went much better than my last attempt at a shower. I grab my crutches and go into my bedroom. Nat is sitting on my bed, waiting. This morning after physical therapy, she informed me that Sam would be coming over. <br/>          “He’s certified,” she reminds me from her spot on the bed. “He also has experience with combat veterans and amputees,”<br/>          “I’m not a combat veteran,” I mutter, pulling back on my leggings and sweatshirt.<br/>          “You are, you got injured in battle, Wanda.” Her voice is gentle. I pinch my lips, my nerves on edge. I feel like a live wire. <br/>          “Why don’t you have to go to therapy? You’re more messed up than I am!” I snap, throwing my towel on the ground. Almost as quickly as it erupted, my energy depletes, leaving me empty. <br/>          “Sam will be here in a little while if you want to wait in the library.” She leaves the door to my room open. I go slowly down the hall, wondering if there is a way I can get out of therapy. Instead, I hear the buzzer to ring someone in, my window of opportunity gone. After a quick greeting, I hear them head towards me. <br/>          “Okay, so I will leave you guys to it,” She looks from me to Sam hopefully before closing the door. <br/>          “Hi Wanda,” <br/>          “Hi,” I stare out the window of our library. Rather than Central Park, this room overlooks East 78th Street and New York’s Institute of Fine Arts. I can see college students coming in and out of the building. There is a mother with a jogger. Two businessmen carrying briefcases and coffee.<br/>          “Wanda,” I look back over at Sam.<br/>          “What was the question?”<br/>          “How have you been feeling?”<br/>          “Fine,” I look back out the window. A little girl is racing her brother, who is much faster. Their mother, or maybe a nanny, chases after them.<br/>          “What do you want to talk about today?”<br/>          “I don’t, know, whatever you want to,”<br/>          “This your therapy session, Wanda. Not mine. Nothing you say in here will leave this room.”<br/>          “I don’t want to be here.” I pull my leg up to my chest, turning away from the window and back to Sam.<br/>          “Why?”<br/>          “I’m not crazy,”<br/>          “No one thinks you’re crazy.”<br/>          “Nat thinks I’m going to throw myself out a window or something.”<br/>          “Are you?” I consider this for a moment.<br/>          “I don’t think so,”<br/>          “Wanda, you’ve experienced a major loss, really a lot of loss and trauma over the past eighteen months. I want to help you move past this most recent one. To do that, I need you to talk to me, tell me how you’re feeling,”<br/>          “I feel nothing,” I shift in my seat, “I look in the mirror and don’t recognize the face staring back at me.” He waits for me to say more. “I mean, I obviously know that’s my face, but I feel like I’m not inside,” I hug my arms to my chest. <br/>          “How long have you been feeling this way?” I shrug. “Since before the mission?”<br/>          “No. I knew who I was, I knew my purpose.” I think of my training sessions with the team. Finally being declared an equal just a few weeks ago.<br/>          “Why do you feel like you’re a different person now?”<br/>          “I am missing my leg, I’m not sure you noticed.”<br/>          “Is your name still Wanda?” I snort. “Okay, stupid question, humor me.” He looks thoughtful, “Do you still like pierogis?”<br/>          “Yes,”<br/>          “Are you still great at languages?” I nod, “And you’re getting really good at hacking?” I nod again, begrudgingly. “Analyzing blueprints? Risk assessment?” I nod to both. “And cooking?”<br/>          “Yes,”<br/>          “Okay, is your favorite color still red? Do you still have the same people that care about you?”<br/>          “My powers are weak,”<br/>          “Your powers are a manifestation of how you’re feeling. The more confident you became, the more control you had. I’ve read your files Wanda. If your powers are weak, it’s because that is how you’re perceiving yourself. Once you start to feel self-assured, your powers will increase again.” I look at the clock on the wall. It’s been thirty minutes.<br/>          “I don’t feel any better,” <br/>          “I’m not going to lie to you. You’re not going to feel better instantly; this is a marathon, not a sprint. Let’s do some role switching.” He suggests. “Imagine it was Natasha who lost her leg.” I frown, “Come on,”<br/>          “Fine.”<br/>          “And she questions her value to you, the team, the world. What would you tell her?”<br/>          “She’s not me, she’s Nat. She has lots of other skills besides kicking someone’s ass.”<br/>          “So do you, we listed them off earlier. You are still great at languages, hacking, planning out missions, running analysis.”<br/>          “That was a dirty trick,” I look away but an impressed smile ekes its way out.<br/>          “Okay, that’s our time,” he looks down at his watch.<br/>          “That’s it? You’re not going to make me lie down on a couch and talk about my parents?”<br/>          “Do you want to?” He asks, standing up.<br/>          “No,” I follow him out of the room on my crutches.<br/>          “Then we won’t,” Natasha looks up from her spot on the couch. I wait for him to ask to talk to her alone, to talk about what I just told him, instead he says goodbye and that he’ll come back next week.<br/>          “How did it go?”<br/>          “Fine,” I turn to head to my room.<br/>          “Do you want to out here with me? We could watch a movie,” I pause for a moment.<br/>          “No. I’m going to take a nap,” I lie down in my bed, holding a pillow to my chest. I think of what Sam said, about my powers. I hold out my hand in front of me. In the dark of my room, the red tendrils slink out a few inches before dying. There is a knock on the door, and I see Natasha. She walks over and lies next to me, staring at the ceiling. <br/>          “We could put those plastic stars up if you want, the ones that glow in the dark.” I take off the compression sock, massaging my stump before lying down next to her. Her breaths are short and quick. <br/>          “Are you sick?” I ask, unbelieving. <br/>          “Just a cold, it’s nothing.” Pressed up against her, she feels cold and clammy. Perhaps she really does have cold. I didn’t think it was possible. “What do you want to watch?” I shrug and she flips on the TV, picking out an older comedy and presses play.</p><p> </p><p><br/>          I wake up with the last light of day streaming into my room. I had fallen asleep and Natasha had draped a blanket over me. I rub my eyes and sit up, there is a whirring coming from the kitchen. I head into the living area and see she is using a stand mixer for something.<br/>          “Are you trying to cook?”<br/>          “Bake,” she blows a lock of hair out of her face. I begin to go over to the kitchen when my crutch gets stuck and I feel myself falling. I catch the back of the couch before I fall, and the couch rocks with the sudden change in weight. It doesn’t flip. Natasha is at my side instantly.<br/>          “Are you okay?”<br/>          “I’m fine,” my face burns and I pull myself up. I look over to the kitchen. She had left mixer on and chocolate is splattered all over the white cabinets. “You should take care of that,”<br/>          “Oh, shit,” she runs back over to the kitchen. I head back to my room and lie down on my bed. <br/>          There is a knock on my door a little while later. “Come on, I ordered dinner,” I follow her to the dining table and see containers of vegetables, rice, and chicken. “I spoke to the prosthetist; he said your leg should be here in two days.” I push around the vegetables on my plate halfheartedly.  “Please Wanda, please give me something. I’m trying,”<br/>           I want to yell to her that I’m trying too. That I drag myself to physical therapy every day in hopes that a little bit of myself re-emerges, that the me I know isn’t dead, but asleep. That I eat the food she gives me despite the fact that everything feels like sawdust in my mouth. That getting out of bed is more work than it used to be for me to spar with her. Instead, I stare blankly at my food, unable to find the will to put any of those thoughts into words. I sit in front of my plate until Natasha is done eating and head to my room for the night.<br/>          At three thirty, I wake up, stomach growling. I should have eaten more at dinner. Eating this early in the morning is terrible, all I want to do is stay in bed. My stomach persists. I think of what I said to Sam, how I feel nothing. Right now, I feel hunger and I grab onto it with all my strength. I pull myself out of bed and towards the door. When I open it, I’m startled to see Natasha. She is sleeping next to the door, slumped against the wall. Her computer is on her lap, still open but dead. Files are piled up around her. Has she been sleeping out here every night? I head into the kitchen and open the fridge. I balance the strawberries and can of whipped cream, turn around, and place them on the counter.<br/>          “Wanda?” I hear Nat’s panicked voice down the hall.<br/>          “In the kitchen,” She walks into the room, relaxing when she sees me. I squirt whipped cream on the strawberry and take a bite.<br/>          “Why are you up? It’s four o’clock in the morning,”<br/>          “I was hungry.” I gesture to the strawberries and hold up the whipped cream can.<br/>          “Can I get you a bowl? Or cut them up for you?” She stands across from me at the counter, anxious to help.<br/>          “This is fine.” I think of her, sleeping outside my room.<br/>          “Do you sleep there every night?” I put the food back in the fridge.<br/>          “Where?”<br/>          “Outside my bedroom,”<br/>          “I was working and fell asleep,” She coughs into the crook of her elbow. She looks to the fridge and an idea seems to form in her head. “I will be back in an hour, put on some warm clothes,” she grabs her coat and car keys, rushing out the door. Dumbfounded, I do what she says. <br/>          At nearly five, she pokes her head into my room. <br/>           “Alright, come on,” However, as we leave the apartment, she goes towards the stairs rather than the elevator.<br/>          “What are you doing?”<br/>          “Do you trust me?” I frown and nod. “Give me your crutches,” she comes around my right side and I wrap my arm around her shoulder. It takes us ten minutes, but we get up the stairs without incident, though we have to stop halfway for Nat to catch her breath. She waves it off as her cold and opens the door at the top of the stairs. We’re on the roof. Nearly all the blankets in the apartment seem to be piled together and there’s two white Styrofoam takeout boxes and two mugs of coffee. Between them is the can of whipped cream. I sit down on one portion of the pile of blankets while Natasha wraps the comforter from her bed around us both.  She opens up the boxes with the same pride as though she had cooked the food herself. Two perfectly fluffy Belgium waffles covered in toppings and syrup steam into the early morning air. She takes the can of whipped cream and douses her waffle, then handing the can to me to do the same. I laugh, surprising myself, and completely hiding the waffle under the cream. As we eat our waffles and drink our coffee, the sun greets New York City, painting a beautiful sky of pinks and purples.<br/>          “Thank you,” I rest my head onto shoulder once more. Though the pressure on my chest is not gone, it feels a little lighter than before.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I also want to not that this is not me *curing* Wanda's depression after one therapy session- she is just having a good moment. Like all sicknesses, depression has its ups and downs and she has a long journey ahead of her! This chapter was dialog heavy, if you liked that please let me know and I will continue to feature Wanda's therapy, if not, i will just mention it in passing rather than focusing chunks of chapters on it. As always, feedback and requests are welcome! Thank you all for following along and hope you are having a great week! -Carly :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! Didn’t think I’d be able to post, but I have WiFi! So here’s chapter 7! I’ll try to update Welcome Home tonight as well 😊 Sorry if the formatting is a little wonky again- posting from my phone, I’ll fix it when I’m at a computer. Hope you enjoy! As always, any feedback or requests are appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re doing great,” </p><p>“You’re being patronizing,” I huff. Chad is grinning ear to ear. I make it to the end of the bars and turn around. </p><p>“I think you could be onto a cane within a few weeks,” I nod, concentrating. One step closer. One more step. He hands me my crutches. At a snails pace, I make it across the small gym. “Look at you!”</p><p>“Chad, I swear to God,” I sit down on one of the weight lifting benches. My stump is throbbing. </p><p>“I think we can go down to meeting three times a week, what do you think?” I nod, removing the prosthetic and massaging my leg. He says his goodbyes and I am alone in the gym. My phone dings. I look down, it’s from Peter. I click ignore and head to my bedroom, putting back on the new leg. However, I am not alone for long. I hear the front door unlock and Natasha dropping something, followed by an expletive. I lie down on my bed, closing my eyes. I hadn’t slept last night. My right foot was pulsing in pain, but there is nothing I can do to fix that as it no longer exists. </p><p>“Hi,” she knocks on the door. “What do you think of going out to dinner tonight to celebrate?” </p><p>“What are we celebrating?” I ask, rolling over to face her. </p><p>“Your leg, this is really big and I think that it’s worthy of us going out to dinner instead of eating take out from PF Chang’s.” </p><p>“I don’t want to,” </p><p>“We’ll go to that Italian place you love,” she tries. “We can get tiramisu for dessert, just completely carbo-load. It will be fun,”</p><p>“I’ll go, okay? Are you happy?” I feel the anger building up my chest. </p><p>“Wanda,”</p><p>“Oh, that’s right, you’re never happy.” I turn to face the window pull a pillow over my head. I hear the bedroom door shut behind her. At four, I get a text from Nat. It’s a forward of a reservation confirmation for <a>six o’clock</a>. I pull myself up and take a shower. The shiny glint of the scar catches under the shower light. It is long and ugly. It reminds me of a snake. I rinse my hair, trying to detangle it with my fingers. If hadn’t been combed it since I saw Sam three days ago.  After toweling off and grabbing my crutches, I stand in my closet and realize that for the first time in weeks, I’ll be wearing two shoes. I pull on a pair of leggings and a sweater, then see a new pair of shoes- red suede sneakers. Natasha must have bought them for me. I head into the kitchen, and see Nat waiting. She is half asleep against the counter but lights up when she sees me, smiling even more when she notices my shoes. </p><p>“Are you ready to go?” She looks exhausted in the light, dark circles under her eyes, something I hadn’t noticed in the darkness of my room. </p><p>“I don’t want to go,” I try again, “everyone will stare.” </p><p>“People always stare,” Nat points out. </p><p>“Normally they stare at you,” </p><p>“Then how do you know that’s going to change?”</p><p>“How could it not?”</p><p>“Because this is a new leather jacket and people are bound to notice,” she pops it’s collar with a smile. My shoulders sag in defeat. “The longer you put this off, the harder it’s going to be. We’ll take a car service there and back.” She opens the door and we stand in the elevator. </p><p>I can feel her watching as we step off and make our way through the lobby. My muscles lock up at the exit. </p><p>“You’re going to be fine, I promise.” The doorman lets us out and I see our town-car waiting. In the back seat, my hands have begun to sweat. “If it gets bad, we leave, okay? Not a problem.” She squeezes my hand, ignoring the sweat. Her hand is freezing in contrast. The car pulls up to our favorite Italian place in Lenox Hill, the ride wasn’t long enough. I can feel eyes landing on us as we get out, my steps shaky. Natasha is careful not to rush me, walking like this is a normal speed. Inside, we are sat down at booth. My leg hurts. I can feel eyes on us. Natasha acts like everything is perfectly normal. </p><p>“What are you thinking of getting?”</p><p>“Cyanide,” I reply dryly, opening the menu. </p><p>“That’s not funny, Wanda.”</p><p>“It was a joke.” She looks as though she is going to say something else but instead turns to look for the waiter. </p><p>“Chad said he’s going to cut down to three times a week instead of six. He said you’re making major strides,” </p><p>“Was that a pun?” I take a sip of my water. She smiles and the waiter arrives. </p><p>“Can I start you ladies off with something to  drink?” His eyes flit to my crutches and then back to me. </p><p>“I’ll have a vodka cranberry,”</p><p>“She’ll have a Coke.” Natasha interrupts with a glare. “And I’ll have a glass of your house red.” </p><p>“He was going to let me have it,”</p><p>“I know,” she closes her menu. “I’m going to get the chicken Parmesan,”</p><p>“I guess I’ll have the same,” I try to adjust my leg under the table. The end of my stump itches I wish I could take it out off, I should have worn a dress. We order our food and Natasha watches as I tear into a roll. “What?”</p><p>“When do you want to go back to school?”</p><p>“What?” I nearly choke on my bread.</p><p>“Well you have to go back.”</p><p>“No.” I imagine the stares, the pity. </p><p>“Wanda, I’m legally obligated to make sure you get an education.”</p><p>“Then tutor me at home, like you used to,”</p><p>“You love school,” she points out. </p><p>“I don’t want to go back, I’ve already missed so much.” </p><p>“You were bragging to me a month ago that you were two months ahead on your schoolwork. You said it was incase an Avengers stuff came up. And your teachers know what happened, they will be accommodating.” She pauses, seemingly to catch her breath. Our food arrives. </p><p>“I’m not going back. I don’t want to.” </p><p>“You can’t spend your entire life in our apartment,” she takes a sip of her wine. </p><p>“Why not?” </p><p>“The world needs you, needs Scarlet Witch.” </p><p>“I don’t think the world needs three quarters of an Avenger,” </p><p>“You are still whole, you’re still important to the team, even if your role changes. Your friends miss you.”</p><p>“I don’t want to go back, everyone will stare, like they are now.” </p><p>“What if you went back in the fall? I can work it out with your teachers that you only go in for finals. Would you agree to that?” She asks, exasperated. </p><p>“Fine.” I look down at my food. It tastes like nothing. </p><p>“Good,” she smiles, twirling her spaghetti. “We could go to a movie after this, maybe see that new comedy,”</p><p>“Not interested.” Natasha stops attempting conversation and we finish our dinner in silence. I feel like the walls are closing in on me and people’s voices are getting louder. Finally, Natasha pays the bill and we get up to leave. I see people with their phones up, trying to sneak a photo. As we step outside there are paparazzi. The three steps to the car make up the longest walk of my life. I hear the cameras snapping and people calling our names. In the car, Nat looks over at me. </p><p>“I’m proud of you, that wasn’t easy to do.” I turn away from her, looking out the window. We get out of the car at our building and I trip onto the sidewalk. I feel a yank on the back of my sweater, keeping me upright. I tear away from her. </p><p>“I don’t need your help,” I hiss, angered by the concern in her eyes. I just want to be left alone. In our apartment, Natasha follows me down the hall to my bedroom.</p><p>“Wanda, I’m worried about you,”</p><p>“Leave me alone.”</p><p>“But,”</p><p>“Stop.” I snap. “Just stop. Stop trying to help me, stop doing things for me, stop buying me things. We aren’t family. You aren’t my mom!” I slam the door shut but not before I saw the look on Natasha’s face. Like I had stabbed her in the heart. I sit down on my bed, ripping off my leg. My breath is coming fast and uneven, the anger inside of me pooling over. I pull up Google on my phone and type my name in. Already stories are popping up. </p><p>“Scarlet Witch spotted without right leg”</p><p>“Wanda Maximoff Wearing Prosthetic Leg?”</p><p>“Scarlet Witch and Black Widow seen at favorite NYC spot- both have seen better days”</p><p>“What happened to Scarlett Witch?”</p><p>“Scarlett Witch Emerges From Public Absence- You’ll Never Believe Why She’s Been Gone” </p><p>I throw my phone across the room and it hits the wall with a crack. My mind is racing. Anger has been replaced with soul crushing anxiety. The whole world knows now. Everyone knows that I failed so miserably on a mission. That I’m a cripple. The thoughts keep coming. I’ve been so cruel to Natasha.  I sit on the edge of my bed for what must be hours, the guilt from what I said to Nat begins to build up until it is all I can think about. I grab my crutches and open up the door to my bedroom. Natasha isn’t in her usual spot outside my door. I head down the hall and she is not in the living room or kitchen, I check the gym. She is not in the library either, the clock reading <a>nine o’clock</a>. She never goes to bed this early. I reach her bedroom, I have only been in a handful of times. It’s sparser than her room at the compound. There are only two photos, one of her with the Barton’s and the one of us on thanksgiving. I open the door. Her white bedspread is stained with blood. But she’s gone.</p><p>“Nat? Natasha?” I call, pushing open the door further, rushing into the room. There’s no answer. The door to her bathroom is ajar. I drop to the ground when I see her, crawling forward. She lays in a crumpled heap. Her skin is tinged blue and her lips bubble with fresh blood. I feel a weak and thready pulse. No. No. I reach for my phone, and realize I had thrown it across my bedroom. The AI, the apartment has AI. “FRIDAY?” I my voice catches, “Call an ambulance, and the team.” I start chest compression, panic beginning to take hold. She can’t die. She can’t die. She can’t die. The last words I said to her were so cruel, so untrue. I tilt her head back, doing mouth to mouth. I am covered in blood. How can this much blood come out of her mouth? What happened? She can’t die. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And cliffhanger!! (I love them so much). Since this is the last part of the series who knows who I’ll kill off! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, any comments are welcome! I’d also love some requests for upcoming chapters, I have a few ideas but am always happy to accept others! Thank you!</p><p>(Every time I write cliffhanger I think of the jingle from between the lions, anyone else? No okay lol 😂)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trigger warning for graphic descriptions of blood and suicidal thoughts</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! I'm back from my slow posting hiatus! Hope you are all doing amazing! Please enjoy this chapter, the next one will be out ASAP :)<br/>Thank you all for following along with this series, your support has been incredible! Comments are appreciated as always!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Someone pulls me away from her. I sit against the wall, watching as the doctors begin to work. It is like I’m underwater, everything is quiet and slow. There is so much blood. I look down at my hands. It has begun to dry and itch. <br/>
            “Wanda,” I look up and everything snaps into focus once more. Cap is crouched down in front of me. I haven’t seen him since the mission a month ago. He looks tired. Though I can’t imagine I look good either. <br/>
            “Is she going to be okay?” <br/>
            “She’s alive,” <br/>
            “That’s not an answer,” I look at the tile floors, more red than white. “I should clean that up.” <br/>
            “They’re on their way to the compound, a whole team of doctors is working on her. Someone else will take care of this.” He stands up, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “I can drive you up,” I ignore his hand and stand up on my own, heading towards my bedroom. I slide on my leg and pick my phone up off the ground. <br/>
            Cap doesn’t speak as he drives Natasha’s SUV. It seems like a lifetime ago that we were at the Italian restaurant.<em> We aren’t family. </em>I can’t believe I said that to her. I have been horrible. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to fall apart. If I do, I think I’ll never be whole again.<br/>
            “She’s going to be okay,” <br/>
            “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I look over at him. His jaw is tight and clenched. He methodically tightens and releases his grip on the steering wheel. We pull up to the compound, the gates opening.  Tony is waiting on the front steps. He is hunched over, looking as though he just came from battle, not the Upper Eastside. We follow him towards the medical wing. Though they don’t rush me, I feel impatient at my own pace. <br/>
            “She’s stable,” Tony says finally as we near the wing, “They were able to stop the bleeding. Clint’s with her.” <br/>
            “So, she’s okay?” I feel a rush of relief. Tony doesn’t say anything, just looks to Cap. “Is she not okay?” <br/>
            “She’s not breathing on her own,” Tony says finally. I spot Bruce leaving a room. It must be Natasha’s. His face is grim. <br/>
            “We’re doing everything we can to keep her comfortable until Dr. Cho arrives, she’s going to perform a modified bronchoscopy,” <br/>
            “Why didn’t you do surgery in the first place?” I glare at Bruce.<br/>
            “There’s risk with every surgery, we were hoping Nat’s lungs would repair on her own. But she hasn’t been following the treatment regime I sent her.”  <br/>
            “Can I see her?” Bruce nods and I step past him, into the hospital room. <br/>
            I have never seen her look so small.  There is a breathing tube taped to her mouth. Another tube goes into her left leg. There are IVs and monitors stuck into every possible surface. Everything beeps steadily, a reassurance that for this moment, it is not getting worse. Any worse and she would be dead. Her skin is the same color as the sheets. Her red hair is like a fiery halo against the sterile white.<br/>
            “Clint?”  He turns around, his eyes red. <br/>
            “Bruce said if it wasn’t for you, she’s be dead.” If it wasn’t for me, none of this would have happened. Clint gets up, offering me the seat. I feel bad accepting it, but I don’t know how much longer I can stand.<br/>
            “Did you know something was wrong?” <br/>
            “I didn’t know it was this bad.” He whispers, “Did you notice anything?” I shake my head,<br/>
            “She just said she had a cold.” I feel my guilt double. She was always out of breath. The weird sounds from her chest. How could I not notice? How could I be so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t notice her dying in front of me? <br/>
            “This isn’t your fault, Wanda,” Clint squeezes my shoulder, “Nat has been pushing herself too hard. We just have to hope she can pull through.” He sighs, “I have to go call Laura and let her know what’s going on. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” I nod, not looking away from Natasha. I place my hand on hers and close my eyes, searching for some kind of consciousness in her dreams. I am pulled in quickly and am met with a discord of thoughts. There are only colors and abstract shapes. It’s loud. The beeping of the monitors in surround sound. It takes all my strength to pull myself back out. I hadn’t used my powers in weeks, I forget how draining it is. I can’t even celebrate the fact that I can use them again, even on this small scale. She looks at peace, despite the chaos in her head. Looks can be deceiving. <br/>
            “Wanda, we need to prep Nat for surgery, Cho is one hour out,” Bruce looks down at Nat, his dark eyes giving away everything. He doesn’t think this surgery will work. <br/>
            “I guess I’ll go to the waiting room.” Everyone else is out there. Even Thor, who has been gone since Christmas. I sit down next to Clint, exhausted. I lean on his shoulder and take off my leg. I’m still in the shorts I changed into when we got home from the restaurant. I can feel everyone staring as I massage my leg, all too polite to say anything. I look up and meet Cap’s eyes. He quickly looks away.  Clint wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in. I want to cry. But I don’t. Helen Cho runs by, not even glancing at the crowd in the waiting room. <br/>
            “Wanda, you need to take a shower,” Clint whispers in my ear. <br/>
            “I can’t leave, I have to be here,” <br/>
            “I’ll walk you there, okay?” I am so tired. I don’t know what time it is. It’s still dark out. It takes nearly a half hour for us to reach my suite. I stumble in surprise when I see my reflection in the full-length mirror. Clint catches me as I stare in horror. I’m covered in blood. The front of my shirt is completely drenched, as are the sleeves, from doing compressions. My face and neck are covered from doing mouth to mouth. “Are you okay to shower? I can grab Vision,” I turn to the toilet and vomit, the spaghetti sauce burning my throat. It is like a bathed in her blood. Every part of me is crimson. I stand up unsteadily. I can’t fall apart. I won’t fall apart. <br/>
            “No, I’m good.” I find my voice. “Will you please grab me a change of clothes?” He nods and leaves the bathroom. I strip down to my underwear, too tired to remove anything more. I sit down on the floor of the shower. The water swirls around me in a rusty pool. So much blood. I find it dried in my hair and caked under my fingernails. It won’t come out. I can’t get it off. I must have washed my hair six times. It won’t come out. <br/>
            “Wanda?” I look up and see Vision. “Clint heard you crying and sent for me, he failed to mention the wailing.” Vision observes me with clinical concern.<br/>
            “I didn’t realize I was crying,” I murmur, my throat it raw. I continue to scrub at my hands, trying to get under my nail beds. I can feel the blood sitting underneath. <br/>
            “You have got it all, there is none left.” <br/>
            “I can still feel it,” I close my eyes. “I need Natasha,” I cry, “I can’t do this without her,”<br/>
            “Your hands are raw,” Vision breathes pulling them away from the bar of soap. The skin is shiny and new. <br/>
            “I have brought a change of clothes,” Vision reaches in and turns off the shower. “You require new underclothes,” he phases through the wall and returns a moment later. I stand up and lean against the shower door, toweling off. <br/>
            “Is there any update on Natasha?” <br/>
            “She’s still in surgery. They expect to be finished within the hour,” I sit down on a stool and slide on the compression sock and then my leg. Lastly, I put on the sweatpants and T-shirt supplied by Vision. I will be going through this process every day for the rest of my life. It’s exhausting. <br/>
            “I need to go back to the waiting room,” I run my fingers through my wet hair, not bothering with a comb. <br/>
            “Resting may be the best idea, you have gone through a traumatic ordeal. You look quite tired.”<br/>
            “This is how I look now, Vis!” I snap. He steps back, his lips drawing into a frown. I am doing an amazing job at shoving everyone away from me. “I’m sorry, I am dealing with a lot, and clearly not handling it very well.”<br/>
            “You are seventeen and handling this better than most adults in your position would.” <br/>
            “I wish that were true,” I stand up and walk into my bedroom. The blood is gone, but my skin still crawls. <br/>
            “Wanda,” I shake my gaze away from the wall. Vision looks more concerned than before. <br/>
            “I’m fine, let’s go.”<br/>
            Everyone looks up when I enter, they were clearly hoping for Dr. Cho. I sit back down next to Clint with Vision on the other side of me. Cap and Clint are texting each other about me, it is obvious by the unsubtle glances. I can’t bring myself to care. Sam is pacing the room. Fury and Maria aren’t here, which surprises me. Neither is Pepper. Someone had turned on the TV. It’s the Office, like what I watched my first night here. My life is completely different now. I can’t imagine telling that child what is to come. Footsteps sound down the hall. Helen Cho and Bruce walk in wearing their scrubs, taking off the surgical masks. <br/>
            “We finished the surgery. It was a success,” Dr. Cho looks between all of us. <br/>
            “Is she going to be okay?” Tony asks the question none of us are brave enough to. <br/>
            “It’s out of our hands, what happens next is up to Natasha.” The doctor turns to head back to the operating suite. Bruce looks around the room, his eyes not settling on anyone in particular, too afraid to give anything away. <br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>           <br/>
            It’s been two days. Clint and I head into Natasha’s room. Laura and the kids are on their way from Iowa. She somehow looks worse than before. I can see why Bruce wanted to avoid surgery. She is one step closer to death. I just hope she isn’t knocking on his door.<br/>
            “How long until she can breathe on her own?” I turn to Clint. He has more experience than I do with Nat’s healing, he would know. I’m growing impatient. <br/>
            “She has never been this bad,” Neither of us have slept more than an hour. The only reason we even left the room was for the doctors to examine her. <br/>
            “She’ll be okay. She can’t die. I can’t, if she’s gone, I can’t,” I won’t make it. I know this in my bones. I look down at her. <br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “I’m going to go in and grab her,”<br/>
            “Wanda, we can’t be selfish.”<br/>
            “I can pull her out,” <br/>
            “She wouldn’t want you to go in there,”<br/>
            “No, she wouldn’t want to leave me alone!” I cry. The glass medicine cabinet above the sink shatters. “She doesn’t get to leave me. I’m not going to let her,” <br/>
            “We don’t know what kind of quality of life she wouldn’t have, Natasha wouldn’t want to be a vegetable.”<br/>
            “She won’t be, I can do this, I can bring her back. Let me try,” I beg. “You’re her power of attorney,” I force myself to calm down, “I won’t do it without your permission.” I can feel my power coursing through my veins. I can do this. I will do this. I am going to bring her back. She isn’t going to die. Clint stares at his best friend. Years’ worth of memories flashing before his eyes. <br/>
            “Do it.” Clint whispers and spins around, slamming the door behind him. I take a deep breath and place a hand on her forehead. I let the magic course through my and surge through my fingers. I’m pulled in. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is Wanda doing the right thing? How is this going to play out? So many questions... that will be answered in the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Any feedback and requests are welcome! I would also love to hear what you would like to happen next, as I have quite a few different outcomes written out and can’t decide! Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>********Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts************</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another chapter! Thank you all for following along! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>              I am drowning. The water around me is thick and red. It isn’t water. There is a sharp pressure against my chest. It releases, following a rhythm. Someone is performing CPR. I think I hear screaming. Soon other voices enter. There is yelling and beeping. Then quiet, darkness. Nothing. It is a peace I have never known. I feel no fear, I feel no burdens, just nothing. This calm is quickly interrupted by flashes of colors. They take on wild forms and seem to wake up a part of me that I thought ceased to exist. The jarring abstract shapes begin to melt into something more. A world materializes around me, bending into shape.<br/>
             I’m sitting on the couch in the Upper East Side apartment. It's sunny. I walk down the hall to Wanda’s room, but she isn’t there. It is completely silent. There is no one outside, no horns honking or even birds flying by. I wander down the hall. The gym is the same, the library has more books than seemingly possible. None of them have labels on their spines, but even without them, I know what each hold. I turn to my bedroom. The white comforter is stained red. My knees go weak when I see the bathroom. My own body lies before me, surrounded by blood. Before I can truly process what I see, there is a knock on the front door. Quickly, the knocks become more persistent, escalating to banging. I pull open the door and someone flies into my arms.<br/>
            “Wanda? I ask through a mouthful of hair. I pull away, she looks bewildered at the sight of me. She stumbles forward, enveloping me in a hug. Her dark hair is matted into clumps and she wears my old sweats. “What happened to you?” She is crying, gripping my wrists so tight I fear they could break. “Wanda, what is going on?” I tear away and head to the kitchen, starting a pot of tea.<br/>
            “You’re you, you’re alive, everything is going to be okay. I can pull you back with me.”<br/>
            “Slow down, Little Witch. What on Earth are you talking about?” I carry the mugs out of the kitchen and towards the library. She sprints after me, which seems wrong for some reason. She sits down in her chair and I in mine. She stares at me like I hold all the answers in the world.<br/>
             “Do you remember what happened? After dinner,” The thoughts come in quick flashes. I see her slam the door in my face. The coughing in bed, trying to get to the bathroom. I think of my body on the floor just a room away.<br/>
            “Yes,”<br/>
            “You need to wake up, you’ve been in a coma for two days.” <br/>
            “How are you here if I’m in a coma? I look up at her, my gaze cold. “I told you to never come into my head without permission ever again.”<br/>
            “I did get permission,” she insists. If I’m in a coma, someone has power of attorney.<br/>
            “Clint let you do this? That sentimental bastard,” I put my head in my hands. I feel so betrayed. Wanda gets up from her armchair and looks at the bookshelves. She grabs a novel, cracking it open.<br/>
          <em>  We’re on the Barton farm. It’s the 4<sup>th</sup> of July. Clint is still in a dark place. Lila is trying to get him to show her how to use her new bow that she got for her birthday. I feel all same emotions as if it is happening now. I can see Cooper pushing Nathaniel on a swing. Laura is walking out of the kitchen with pie.</em><br/>
<br/>
            We are back in the library; the memory ending. She runs her finger along the spine of another: my first kill. I was nine. However, she moves past it my heart stops when I see where her hand stills. She grabs it before I can stop her.</p><p>          <em>  I jump off the couch, cornered. My heart is pounding so loud I am sure everyone can hear it. I see Wanda’s face. It is an expression I will never erase from my mind. It is pure fear, terror. It is akin only to realizing that you are staring down the barrel of a gun and that you are going to die. I feel violated, like every part of who I am has been exposed and played with. I walk slowly out of the room, trying to maintain some sense of control, and break into a sprint as soon as I am out of sight. I end up in the woods at the edge of the property. I collapse to my knees, breathing in the frigid air. Wanda knows. She knows about that monster that I truly am. The lies that I have been telling myself, that I could have normal, were nothing more than that- lies. My fingers slide to the gun on my belt. But my training won’t let me. I can’t even have the dignity of dying on my own terms. When I close my eyes, all I can see is her fear. A reminder that I will never be more than a weapon.</em><br/>
<em>            I am in the firing range.<br/>
</em>           No, no, no. How do I stop her from seeing this memory? I try to force myself back to the library, to close the damn book. A fake book. A physical manifestation of my own memories. It doesn't work.<em><br/>
           I shoot at the target, feeling myself relax. I take my mind off Wanda. Off waking up in my own grave. So much of me feels like it is a role I play. I don’t know where I end, and Black Widow begins. Another shot, a little less worry. The gun runs out of rounds. Someone touches my shoulder. Intense fear grips my heart. The thought of the shallow grave flashes through, the chair cracking me over the head. I have my other gun cocked and ready to fire. The person is pinned against the wall. My fingers twitches on the trigger. I hesitate, which will be certain death for me. But instead I have the gun pressed up against Wanda’s temple. I choke back my horror and turn around. I think I’m going to be sick. I almost killed her. If I hadn’t hesitated, she’d be dead. I take off the earmuffs. The horror in her eyes. Monster. Villain. Weapon. I truly am nothing more than a tool of their creation. I feel a crippling disappointment. Though she never truly existed, I mourn the part of myself that could have been. All my efforts have been for nothing.</em><br/>
        The memory ends. We are back in the library. Wanda's eyes are wide. <br/>
            “Natasha,”<br/>
            “Stop touching things,” I hiss, snatching the book from her hand and putting it back on the shelf.<br/>
            “I didn’t know you felt that way, you never said,” she looks over at the book, “Do you still think that, when you see me? Do you still see me as a reminder of who you used to be?” I don’t answer her. “I am sorry for coming here without your permission.”<br/>
            For a moment, she looks young, she looks her age. I see the scared girl on the helicarrier after her brother died. Shivering and in shock. I slipped a blanket over her before stumbling into medical. Everything after than is a blur. I couldn’t get out of bed without triggering a memory. It wasn’t until a few days later, right before we moved to the compound, that my thoughts became my own again. “Nat?” Wanda’s voice brings me back to the present. “I have never tried this before, interacting with someone while their dreaming, normally I am asleep too, so neither of us really has enough consciousness to interact. I tried earlier, right before your surgery. All I got were colors.”<br/>
            “This isn’t a dream.” I realize. “You created this place, like you did for yourself in Brazil.” I look around. Everything here is as Wanda left it, down to the blood. She tried to create a safe place for me to hide, even if she didn’t realize it. “That is why we can interact. I am not asleep.” The sun is getting low on the horizon. “How long was I without oxygen?” I begin to calculate in my head.<br/>
            “I managed to keep you breathing until you could be put on a ventilator,”<br/>
            “So how long was I low on oxygen?” I ask, growing impatient.<br/>
            “A half hour, maybe longer.” I look out the window. The sun is starting to set. I am definitely running out of time. The ramifications of being without oxygen for so long could be debilitating.<br/>
            “I need you to promise me something,” I look back over at her. She nods, eagerly. “If I’m not me, you have to kill me. I don’t know if I will remember being in here, I don’t think so,” I look around my gilded cage, “You have to promise me, and I will have to trust you to uphold your promise.”<br/>
            “Natasha, I can’t kill you.”<br/>
            “You have to. I will not live half a life.” It’s getting darker. “Wanda, we are running out of time. Make a decision.” The last light of day is shining into the room, moments away from evening falling.<br/>
             “I promise,” she breathes. She reaches out and grabs my hand.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter is almost done and will probably be out early tomorrow, sorry for this one being brief! I have been very torn about having the next chapter in Wanda's POV or Nat's, I really can't decide! A lot of the moral consequences will be explored outside of this fake world as Natasha will not remember most of it and I don't want make you all read through the same conversations twice. As always, I love any feedback or requests! Thank you so much for your consistent comments, knowing someone is reading along motivates me to turn out chapters as quickly as possible! Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*********Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and actions**************</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, here is the next chapter... I broke the pattern of 3 chapters Wanda 1 chapter Nat. I have to warn you, my readers, that this chapter is dark. It was hard to write, there are about six different versions on my computer. As always any feedback or requests are welcome and appreciated.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>             I wake up gasping for air. Everything is out of focus. There is something down my throat. I claw at it, trying to get it out. Someone tries to pin my arms down. I strike out and make contact, the person is gone. However, moments later, more hands begin poking and prodding, my wrists are cuffed, as are my ankles.<br/>
            “Nat, stop, we’re trying to take out the breathing tube,” I recognize the voice and try to relax. They are taking out a breathing tube. Why do I have a breathing tube? The beeping of the machines around me becomes more erratic. It is like a hammer in my skull. I feel myself getting tired. They drugged me. I can’t fall asleep.<br/>
            Someone is sitting next to me when I open my eyes again. Everything is clear, but the lights are too bright. The machine beeping is too loud. I can’t concentrate on anything else. I look over at the girl. She smiles at me and reaches forward to squeeze my hand. Wanda. It’s Wanda. Her mouth is moving, she must be speaking. I can’t hear anything over the machines. I close my eyes, trying to calm down. The beeping is picking up pace. Heart monitor. It’s a heart monitor. I reach onto my chest and pull off the stickers. The beeping has morphed into a steady drone that is much worse. The door to the room flings open and there is panic. They look at the machines and then down at me. It is turned off, finally there is silence. The lights flicker off as well. I feel like I can breathe. Someone else enters the room and smiles when he sees me. He rushes forward and pulls me into a hug, my face pressed up against his shoulder. I recognize the smell. Fresh cut grass, iced tea, and bow polish. Clint. He steps back and looks over at Wanda and the doctor. Bruce. The information slides into place like a puzzle piece.<br/>
            “Where am I?” I ask, looking around the cold room. “What’s going on?”<br/>
            “You’re on the compound, in the medical wing.” Wanda smiles again, but like last time it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Do you know who we are?”<br/>
            “Yes,” I snap, embarrassed that I clearly gave away the fact that I didn’t. She looks doubtfully to Bruce. “I know who are, it just took me a minute. I have been asleep for a while.” I hope this is true. I am sure everyone is waiting out in the hall. Wanda’s face twists in pain and she reaches for her leg. I gasp despite myself when she pulls it off. I forgot. I remember now, finding her on the floor of the cell, her leg hanging on by a few stubborn muscles.<br/>
            She looks down to her leg and then back up at me.<br/>
            “How could I forget? How could I forget that?” What is going on? What is wrong with me?<br/>
            “Natasha,” I look over at Bruce, “I asked if you remember what happened?” I close my eyes and think. It comes back like a tidal wave. The Italian restaurant. The door in my face. Drowning in my own blood. The bathroom floor. In my haziest thoughts, I can see Wanda hovering over me, covered in blood, crying. I nod, thinking I will never get the taste of iron out of my mouth. I am so tired. I force myself to open my eyes and stay awake. “So you remember?”<br/>
            “Da, ya pomnyu,” I catch myself in horror. “Wait. No. I mean yes, I remember.” Something is wrong, very wrong. I have never slipped up, ever. No sign that I am anything other than American. “What’s wrong with me?” I breathe, looking at the three of them. Bruce glances to Clint and then back to me.<br/>
            “No, don’t look at me like that, like I’m so wounded baby bird.” I can feel my temper flaring, “I am not a child, Bruce. Tell me what is going on.”<br/>
            “Nat, you were barely getting any oxygen for almost half an hour. It is a miracle that you are alive, let alone that you can talk to us.”<br/>
            “You need to do a,” I pause trying to find the term, “brain picture,” This isn’t it. There is a certain word for this.<br/>
            “You just woke up,”<br/>
            “I want you to fix it, fix me.” I plead. Every word, every thought, is taking too much effort. Like I have to jump through so many hoops just to have a conversation. “Do it.” I insist, my voice breaking.<br/>
            Bruce kicked out Wanda after the testing. Sam took her place. He nods to me, which is better than the pitiful smiles I have received from Bruce and Clint up to this point.<br/>
            “Well?” I bark, growing impatient of their whispering.<br/>
            “It is remarkable,” Bruce begins, “Your brain was healing as we conducted the scan. New areas seemed to light up with each passing minute,”<br/>
            “Am I going to be okay?”<br/>
            “If you continue healing at this rate, you should be fine by tomorrow, maybe the next day at the latest.” I lean back into my pillows, relieved. I am going to be okay. Everything will be okay.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p>           <br/>
             Four days later, everything is not okay. I pace back and forth in my room at the compound. No one will let me spar with them. They claim it’s my lungs. I don’t believe them. I clench my fists, thinking of when they all came in to visit me for the first time, before I was cleared to leave the medical wing.<br/>
            “Everyone is waiting out there,” Bruce trailed off.<br/>
            “Fine.” I nodded. Quickly, the room filled with bodies. People cheering and shoving up against each other. There was lots of laughter. I quickly lost sight of both Clint and Wanda. Everything was getting louder and louder. People kept shoving up against the bed. I know they meant well, but I felt as though I was being suffocated. Someone turned on the lights, they were too bright. It was too loud. It was like every one of my sense has been dialed up to eleven. Everyone was speaking too quickly, while my thoughts moved at a snail’s pace. By the time I was ready to answer, someone else had asked a question. My air started to come in rapid gasps. I have no control. The realization hit me. I have no control. Somehow it gets louder, everything gets brighter. I cover my ears. I need it all to stop. I screamed; I think. My memory is hazy.<br/>
            No one has been in a rush to visit after that. I want to go home. I want to reclaim some sense of control in my life. I have never felt so powerless. The door to my suite opens. It’s Clint.<br/>
            “Chego ty khochesh'?” I mutter. “Fuck, no. I,” I look over at him and feel my anger flare. The pity in his eyes. “What do you want, Clint?”<br/>
             “You’re going to walk straight through the carpet,” I stop pacing and glare at him. No one is letting me do any kind of work, even translations. I am restless and bored. “I wanted to see how you’re doing,” I go over to my bookshelf and throw a book to him.<br/>
            “Open it.” He does as I ask. It’s empty. “You took my weapons. I have none,”<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “No. You don’t get to take away my knives and guns. You don’t get to. How am I supposed to protect myself?” I sit down on my couch, trying to calm down. Even my emotions, once so carefully regulated, are out of my control. “Why did you do this to me?”<br/>
            “What are you talking about?” He sits down next to me.<br/>
            “I remember little things from when I was unconscious.” I see flashes of the apartment, of my own body on the floor. “Wanda didn’t go in without permission.” I look over at him.<br/>
            “You couldn’t die, Tash.”<br/>
            “No! You don’t get to pretend you have my best interests in mind. Do you know what its like to know you should understand something, but you don’t? Or to have words you should know always sitting on the edge of your head, unable to form them? To have no control over yourself? To have no,” I groan in frustration, like a godsend, the word appears, “To have no agency?”<br/>
            “It’s only temporary,”<br/>
            “What if it’s not? What if I’m broken for good this time? Why couldn’t you let me die?”<br/>
            “I couldn’t lose you; I couldn’t let Wanda lose you. Natasha, if you died, she would have killed herself. She is barely hanging on.”<br/>
            “What about me, Clint? What about me? You can’t put that on me right now, I can’t have the responsibility, that pressure.” I feel my heart rate climbing, “What about how I am holding on? Am I just a tool to you, something to be used when convenient and cast aside? Do you not see that I am struggling not to disappear?” I am crying. I never cry. “Leave. I want you out.” I walk back over to the bookshelf and hand him one of my hollowed-out books, “And give me back my fucking guns.”<br/>
            A few hours later, there is a knock at my door. I look up from the Russian dictionary I am translating to English. I can still translate. I can still do this one thing. I get up from my desk and open it. Wanda stands in the doorway. She is wearing my old sweats. Her hair is dried in clumps, like she didn’t take the time to comb it. She looks skinny. I try push away my thoughts about that night, about what she said.<br/>
            “How are you?” she asks carefully. She obviously talked to Clint. Black dots float at the edge of my vision, I try to rub them away. I lie down on my bed, trying to ignore the headache coming on. “Can I join you?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, crawling next to me. Her prosthetic bumps against my leg, her breath is warm against my skin. “You’re mad at him,”<br/>
            “I am mad at both of you,” I reply, “But without Clint’s okay, I wouldn’t be here. I could have died,”<br/>
            “Those words out of anyone else’s mouth would sound grateful.” She teases but I don’t reply. She is saying something else. I feel another puzzle piece slide into place. I can see her agreeing to our deal.<br/>
            “Wanda, you promised me,” my throat gets tight. Her mouth is open, I interrupted her mid-sentence. She pulls away slightly, meeting my eyes.<br/>
            “You remember being in a coma?”<br/>
            “Not all of it,” she braids my hair, “You promised me,” I repeat.<br/>
            “You are still you,”<br/>
            “Net! Ya ne!” I pull my hair from her grasp. English. Use English. “I am,” I search for the word, “empty?” This isn’t it. Frustration prickles my chest.<br/>
            “I heard Bruce tell you that your brain is healing, it is just taking longer than they thought it would. It hasn’t slowed down since the last scan, you will be fine in a few weeks at the most.” She looks at me hopefully. She needs reassurance. She wants me to tell her I will be okay, that I will be fine. I can't offer it. “You are already doing a lot better, yesterday you said you,” I sit up and look out the window. I spot Cap racing Sam. They tried to force Sam on me this morning. It didn’t go well for either of us. Wanda’s hand touches my shoulder lightly.<br/>
            “Why can’t you just kill me?” I turn around, the pain in my chest exploding. “You came close enough to killing me before, just finish the job.” Wanda scrambles off the bed.<br/>
            “You don’t mean that,” she whispers.<br/>
            “If you cared about me, you would end my suffering. Every day of my life is torture, why can’t any of you see that?”<br/>
            “Natasha,” Intense pain and anger flow through me. It is like I have never truly experienced emotions until this moment, a floodgate opening. My head throbs. Nothing is right. I am on my own, nothing ever changed. I was a fool to think anyone could love me. A monster. A weapon. A tool for nothing but destruction. <br/>
            “You don’t care. None of you care. Like you said, we aren’t family. I’m not your mom.”<br/>
            There is a quiet sob. The door to my room slams. I am completely and utterly alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am so sorry! I will be updating Welcome Home tomorrow, the next chapter for Lost will probably be on Friday. I know this was super dark, sorry again. After 70,000 words, it had to happen, even if I never wanted it to! Any feedback would be extremely appreciated!</p><p> </p><p>***I am extremely unsure about this chapter and was strongly considering deleting it, i promise things will get lighter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 11! A little early, I meant to update Welcome Home instead but here we are! Hope you enjoy! As always, any feedback or requests are welcome and appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            I stumble into the hallway. I broke her I destroyed her. There is yelling coming from the living room as I hear small pops followed by glass falling from the ceiling.<br/>
            “What the hell? Wanda did you do this?” Tony calls out. Sam comes around the corner and looks down at me.<br/>
            “You okay? All the lightbulbs just exploded,” he crosses his arms, “Glass landed in my cereal.”<br/>
            “Sorry,” I lean against the wall, making my way towards my room.<br/>
            “What happened?” He follows me inside.<br/>
            “I messed up, again.” I sit down on my bed, massaging my leg. “She hates me.”<br/>
            “Whatever Nat said, she didn’t mean it.”<br/>
            “But,”<br/>
            “I was talking to Tony. Pepper is on her way from California right now. They’ve set up a room for you at the tower.”<br/>
            “I don’t want to leave,” My chest becomes hot and my eye prickle with tears, “Is this some kind of punishment?”<br/>
            “What? No.” he frowns, “Wanda, Nat is going through a lot right now. She can’t control what she says or does. When she’s better,” he pauses, “She will be torn apart by anything she does that could have hurt you.”<br/>
            Vision comes into the room later on. He lies down next to me, pulling back my hair. He is like a radiator, giving off warm and steady heat. Somehow, the lack of heartbeat is comforting.<br/>
            “She loves you, even more than I do, which doesn’t seem possible.” Vision pulls me in tight.<br/>
            “She shouldn’t. I’m a terrible person. Everything I do is so damn selfish. I hurt her so many times, I don’t mean to. I am so scared of losing her. I can’t lose another person,”<br/>
            “You could never do anything that would cause her to leave you. A mother’s love is unconditional,” I bark out a humorless laugh.<br/>
            “It was just clearly hashed out, we are not family.”<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “Viz, can you just drop it? I don’t want to talk,”<br/>
            “Of course.” He holds me close until I fall into an uneasy sleep.<br/>
            Pepper arrives a few hours later. I hear her talking with Tony in the hall before they come into my room.<br/>
            “So, you ready to stay at the tower for a little while, kid?”<br/>
            “No.” I look over to the wall, where I know on the other side Natasha is alone, scared, and angry.<br/>
            “It is for the best, honey. I will try and make it fun, maybe we could even go somewhere else, maybe Hawaii? Or Barcelona?” I shake my head and go over to my desk, picking up my duffel. “Okay, we’ll stay close,” she squeezes my shoulder, “Tony, I’ll see you tonight?” She takes my bag and I follow her out to the car, away from the compound. Away from Natasha.</p><p>            Pepper waits in the lobby as I head upstairs. She is chatting affably with the doorman, Albert. The elevator dings. The hallways feels the same, like nothing has changed. I lean on my cane as I unlock the door. It is amazing to finally have a free hand when I walk.<br/>
            Inside, the apartment is impeccable as always. I head to Natasha’s room. The blood has been cleaned up, no sign that anything out of the ordinary has occurred. Even the bathroom is spotless. I walk past the library and feel a pang of guilt. I wanted so desperately to understand her, to know what was going through her head. Not that she had any problem sharing that now.<br/>
            I step into the library and am surprised to see a stack of papers on her desk. She never leaves anything out. As I get closer, I can see a few spots of red against the white. Upon reaching the desk, I sit down look past the blood. New York Federal Adoption papers. They are dated the night everything went to hell. I look through the stack. Everything is filled out. The only piece missing is my signature, consenting. Did she have these on her when I said those horrible things? I go through that night, step by step. Celebration dinner. She brought an uncharacteristically large purse. We sat at our favorite table, the one that gave us both a view of the whole room. The new shoes. She wore new clothes as well. Oh God. She was going to ask if she could adopt me that night. And I told her that she wasn’t my mom, wasn’t my family.<br/>
            I sign the documents and leave them on the desk, no indication they had ever been touched. In my room, the paint is still chipped on the wall from throwing my phone. I ignore it and go into the closet, grabbing a change of clothes. It is the real reason I am here, not to torture myself with what ifs and guilt.<br/>
            “Wanda?” I turn around. Pepper hovers in the doorway, “You were taking a while, I was getting worried.”<br/>
            “Can we go visit Nat?” I sling the red bag over my shoulder, standing up straight.<br/>
             “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, honey.”<br/>
            “It’s been a week, please,” I beg. Pepper’s eyes soften and she gives me a kind smile.<br/>
            “I’ll ask how she’s doing and if she’s up for visitors, okay?” I nod. “Now Peter is coming over for dinner, so let’s get a move on.”<br/>
            That evening, I sit with Peter on the couch as he shows me<em> Legally Blonde</em>. Pepper is on the phone with Tony in the kitchen and I strain to hear this side of the conversation.<br/>
            “Don’t you think the girl with the perm kind of looks like Laura?” He pops a piece of popcorn in his mouth. I shrug noncommittally, focusing on Pepper. “You said you hadn’t seen this movie,” he accuses.<br/>
            “I haven’t. I guess I’m just not in the mood right now.” Peter mumbles something under his breath, clicking off the TV. Pepper hangs up the phone and meets my eye across the room.<br/>
            “We will visit Natasha tomorrow,”<br/>
            “Thank you,” I bite my cheek.<br/>
            “Is that a good idea?” Peter asks. I shoot him a glare.<br/>
            “What do you mean?”<br/>
            “Well, I know she has been,”<br/>
            “What?” I challenge him. He knows more than he is letting on. He knows something I don’t.<br/>
            “Nothing. I just worry about you is all. I’m glad you get to visit her. Forget I said anything.” He gets up off the couch. “I should head home before May starts wondering where I am. I’ll see you later.”</p>
<hr/><p>            I knock on the door to Nat’s room. My heart is pounding, either from excitement or fear, I don’t know. My hands are sweating, the grip on the cane loosening. I hold it tighter.<br/>
            The door opens. I throw myself into her arms before I can think to do otherwise. I missed her so much. Her arms hang dead at her side before hesitantly hugging me back.<br/>
            “You came to visit?” I pull away. Her eyes aren’t glassy like they were before. She looks more present.<br/>
            “Yes, I’ve been asking for days.”<br/>
            “No one told me,” she sits down on the couch, “You’re off your crutches,”<br/>
             “As of Tuesday, it is amazing, I finally have a free hand when I walk,” Everything feels forced. I sound too upbeat, too happy. However, Natasha doesn’t seem to notice. She has a far away look in her eye, like she’s not even in the room. After a moment, her attention snaps back into focus. “I’m sorry about what I said. It wasn’t fair to you,” All her fight and anger is gone. She just seems… broken.<br/>
            “You don’t have to be sorry. I have been,”<br/>
            “I asked you to kill me, Wanda.” She cuts me off. “There is no world where I don’t have to apologize for that.” She pulls her arms into herself, “I was cruel and selfish to ask such a thing.”<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “Have you gone home? Since,”<br/>
            “Yesterday,” I reply, letting the subject change. I don’t want the rage from last week to return. “You can’t tell anything every happened.”<br/>
            “I want to go home,” her voice is fragile.     <br/>
“I can talk to them, see if we can go home,” I offer.<br/>
            “I doubt they will let me,” she smiles wistfully, “I am a danger to the people around me,” she squeezes my hand, “Don’t worry, I will be okay soon.” Her lie sounds hollow. Her face clouds in confusion once more. “Have you gone home, since this all happened?”<br/>
            “Nat, we just talked about this.” For a moment, I see the flash of anger and frustration I saw a week ago and brace myself, but she pushes it down. She is more like herself than she was a week ago.<br/>
            “Right, sorry.” She looks so tired, so defeated.<br/>
            “You’re doing well,” Her eyes drift behind me. I turn and see a camera mounted in the corner.<br/>
            “No, I’m not.” She rubs her arms, like she is trying to get rid of a chill. “Thank you for visiting, Wanda.”<br/>
            “Are you kicking me out?”<br/>
            “Yes,” she answer honestly. I stand up to go, “Pepper is taking care of you right? She’s doing a good job? I thought she would,” she looks hopeful.<br/>
            “It was your idea to send me away?” I ask, hurt.<br/>
            “Wanda, I can’t hurt you any more than I already have.”<br/>
            “You haven’t hurt me,”<br/>
            “Oh Little Witch, that isn’t true.” She brushes my hair away from my face. Her eyes a pooled with tears, “I don’t want you to visit me again, okay?”<br/>
            “But Nat,”<br/>
            “No, Wanda. I don’t want you to see me again until I am better, do you understand?”<br/>
            “I don’t want to leave you, you wouldn’t leave me,” I point out.<br/>
            “Who’s the adult here?” she teases, but it sounds strained and forced. She is struggling to keep it together right now. She has been since I walked in.<br/>
            “I miss you,”<br/>
            “I miss you too.” She stands up and walks me to the door, “Now go, before I do something I’ll regret.” The door closes softly behind me. Bruce is sitting outside in the hall on a dining chair from the kitchen.<br/>
            “You okay?”<br/>
            “She asked me not to come back,”<br/>
            “I thought she would,”<br/>
            “When can she come home?” I look back at the door. I know she is sitting on the other side of it, just as she used to back at the apartment. Listening for me, making sure I am okay.<br/>
            “A week? Maybe two,” he is quiet, “She’s been volatile, which is to be expected, but its dangerous when she is also a trained killer.”<br/>
            “She hasn’t tried to hurt me,”<br/>
            “That’s why she needs you to leave, before she does.”<br/>
            I find Clint in his room, the door open. He looks like hell. He hasn’t shaved and is wearing ratty old clothing. I suppose the only reason I don’t look that bad is because of Pepper who can be just as firm as Nat.<br/>
            “Clint,” he doesn’t look up from his phone. I flicker the light switch.<br/>
            “Wanda,” he doesn’t have in his hearing aids.<br/>
            “Are you okay?” I sign.<br/>
            “I was texting Laura, she is worried about Nat, about me.” He explains. “Hearing aids were bothering me. I needed a break.”<br/>
            “I’m sure Tony could take a look at them.” I offer.<br/>
            “How are you doing?” he reaches into a case and puts back in his hearing aids.<br/>
            “I’m fine,”<br/>
            “I know you haven’t been; Nat has been worried.”<br/>
            “She doesn’t need to worry about me.”<br/>
            “That is what she does.” He offers me a seat. “We have all been there, that dark place. It feels like you’ll never feel warm again. Like its this impossible pit. No matter how high you climb, it just keeps going.” He fiddles with a pencil, “We are worried about you, Wanda.”<br/>
            “I am fine. I am here. I showered, ate breakfast.”<br/>
            “Are you surviving or are you living?”<br/>
            “I don’t know what the difference is.” I don’t want to talk to Clint anymore. “Sam does this to me enough, I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed by every Avenger.”  <br/>
            “Wanda, I wasn’t trying to,”<br/>
            “Yes you were. Pepper probably wants to get going.” </p><p>            I settle into the passenger seat of the car, taking off my leg. Pepper has been good about not mentioning it, not giving me the looks of pity that I get from so many others. Perhaps Natasha said something to her. Even in this state, Nat can't stop trying to protect me, even though I don't deserve it.  <br/>
            “I want to go away,”<br/>
            “What?” Pepper looks over at me briefly before focusing her eyes back on the road.<br/>
            “Can we go to California or something? I don’t want to be here anymore.”<br/>
            “Of course. Wherever you want to go,”<br/>
            “Just anywhere but here.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A little lighter, a little better! There is a light at the end of the tunnel! Thank you all for following along! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the mother-daughter scenes had me teary eyed! I'm such a softy lol. Thank you again for your comments, they are amazing!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>****Erring on the side of caution and adding a trigger warning for suicidal thoughts*****</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please enjoy! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!<br/>Extra special shout-out to my favorite commentators, your feedback has kept me going with this series!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            I sit on the couch in the apartment, waiting impatiently. Two weeks. It had been two weeks since I had seen Natasha. She was finally coming home. Pepper rearranges the flowers in the kitchen for the fourth time. I want to tell her Natasha won’t notice, but I don’t. She has been so kind and patient the past three weeks. Pepper is amazing, but she’s not Nat. I hear the lock click and look towards the door. Clint walks in with a Natasha’s duffel bag, while she enters cautiously behind him. She looks frail and small. Her face is drawn. But when she sees me, a genuine smile spreads across her face. I stand up quickly and she rushes over, pulling me into a hug. Her hold is tight and familiar, safe. I never want it to end. She pulls away and keeps one arm wrapped around me.<br/>
            “Pepper, I can’t thank you enough,”<br/>
            “Oh, I was happy to, we had fun,” Pepper lies. She may have been happy to do it, but fun was far from the reality of things. “I should probably get going though, I have a board meeting in an hour,” she shoulders her purse, “It is great to have you back, Nat.”<br/>
            Clint looks over at Natasha. He puts down her duffel bag and goes into the kitchen. I hear pots and pans clattering.<br/>
            “What are you doing?” Natasha asks.<br/>
            “I am making us something to eat.”<br/>
            “Clint,”<br/>
            “What?”<br/>
            “You can go home.” Natasha says quietly. “Go see Laura and the kids.”<br/>
            “You both need to eat,” he opens up the fridge, “There is no food in this house.”<br/>
            “We’ll order take out.”<br/>
            “You should eat real food,”<br/>
            “It is real food,”<br/>
            “I can stay on the couch for a few days, make sure you guys are settling in,”<br/>
            “I’m okay,” she pulls him away from the fridge. “Go home, Clint.” He glances between us, conflicted.<br/>
            “You will call, right? If anything happens?” he asks.<br/>
            “Of course. I told Laura you’d be home in time for dinner,” she nudges him out the door. Natasha locks it behind him. She faces the door a moment longer before turning around, “Now, I hate to say it, but Clint is right. We have no food in the house. How about some grocery shopping?” <br/>
            I push the cart as she loads it. She adds to quarts of strawberries and a can of whipped cream. It is all too good to be true. Her hair has grown longer, it seems like overnight, but I know its been months. It hangs well past her shoulders now. I can’t believe I’m just noticing.<br/>
            “Should we get unprepared food?”<br/>
            “You want to try cooking?” I look over at her incredulously. “You can’t even make grilled cheese,”<br/>
            “Well then let’s start there,” she goes over to the cheeses, grabbing four different kinds. “How are we on chocolate sauce?”<br/>
            “For grilled cheese?”<br/>
            “No, you goof. For the strawberries,” she playfully tugs the bottom of my braid. We stand in line and I can feel people staring and snapping photos.<br/>
            “Scarlet Witch, take off your leg for us,” a man has the audacity to call out. My chest starts to get blotchy and red. Anger flashes across Natasha’s face.<br/>
            “I’m fine, Nat. Let’s just get going,” the cashier stares at us dully, waiting for Natasha to insert the chip of her credit card. “Nat, please, let’s just get out of here.” She puts in her black card, her mouth drawn in a thin line. The doorman unloads our car and the bellhop brings up the groceries. They are more accommodating than usual. In the apartment, I watch in fascination as she heats up the pan. “If you make it too hot, the butter will burn.”<br/>
            “No backseat cooking,” Natasha waves her spatula at me, “Just set the table,” I grab the plates and napkins and walk over to the table. “Wanda,”<br/>
            “Hm?” I look up from folding the napkin.<br/>
            “You’re walking,” I look over and realize I left my cane propped up against the kitchen counter. “Walk down the hall,” she turns off the stove.<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “Indulge me,” I walk down the hall towards our bedrooms and then back again. Each step gets steadier, even if it hurts. “You’re amazing,” she takes out her cell phone.<br/>
            “You are not taking a video,”<br/>
            “Of course I am, I have to show everyone,” I cross my arms. “You are trying not to laugh, I can tell,”<br/>
            “Stop,” I roll my eyes.<br/>
            “You’re adorable,” I take another step and feel a sharper prickle of pain. Instantly, Natasha is there, handing me my cane. “That was really good, Wanda. You really are doing amazing, I’m so proud of you.” She clears her throat and pulls away. “I am going to order dinner. We both know I would have burned the grilled cheese. Sweet and sour chicken and lo mein?” She heads into the kitchen, opening drawers until she finds the takeout menu.<br/>
            I wake up in the middle of the night parched. After grabbing my crutches, too tired to put on my leg, I head to the kitchen. The sun hasn’t even come close to rising. I hear sobs coming from Natasha’s room. I open the door and find her in bed, curled into herself.<br/>
            “Nat?”<br/>
            “Wanda? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” she sits up quickly, wiping away her tears.<br/>
            “I just didn’t want to be alone tonight,” I lie and head towards her bed, climbing in next to her. She curls around me, clutching me tight. I feel her tears soaking through the shoulder of my t-shirt. We both pretend I don’t notice.<br/>
            In the morning, Natasha is still asleep next to me. She finally looks like she is resting. I realize that perhaps my lie last night wasn’t much of a lie after all. I get out of bed and head back to my bedroom to take a shower.<br/>
            “Do you want regular pancakes or chocolate chip?”<br/>
             “I was trying to let you sleep in,” I call back from the bathroom, yelling over the running water. I towel off and head into the kitchen where Natasha is flipping a pancake. The skill is nonexistent.<br/>
            “You know, you could take a cooking class.”<br/>
             “I do not have time for cooking classes,” she looks over at me.<br/>
            “What do you mean?”<br/>
            “I was approved for desk work for the next few weeks, then I’ll be heading back in the field,”<br/>
             “But Nat,” I pinch my lips.<br/>
            “It is my job; I have to go back.” She puts the burnt pancake in front of me.<br/>
            “Can’t you just stay on desk duty?”<br/>
             “No. I can’t.” she crosses her arms, “You know I can’t.”<br/>
            “Why not?”<br/>
            “I need to continue to help make the world safer. I need to atone for the part I played to make it a little worse in the first place.” She pours me a glass of orange juice. “Chad will be here in a few hours. I put a translation on your desk, you still haven’t mastered Mandarin. Can you have it to me by tonight?” I nod and finish off the crispy pancake, heading to my bedroom.<br/>
            “Fucking damnit!” I jump up from my chair and find Natasha in her bedroom, standing with a cup of coffee.<br/>
            “What’s wrong?” I look around, there is nothing out of the ordinary, but she is near tears. She gestures to her nightstand. There is a steaming mug. “I don’t understand, so you made two cups of coffee?” She puts the mug in her hand down and sits on her bed. “Nat?”<br/>
            “I thought everything was fine now, I thought I was fine,”<br/>
            “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to catch me up,”<br/>
            “I forgot I already made coffee,”<br/>
            “It’s not a big deal, it’s just coffee, I actually needed a cup anyway, so you saved me a step.” I go over to her nightstand and take the forgotten mug. She chews on the edges of her nails. “Nat, come on, its fine.”<br/>
            “Chad will be here any minute. You should go wait for him.”<br/>
            “But,”<br/>
            “Wanda,” she warns. I take my mug of coffee and shut the door behind me. Chad arrives a few moments later, as Natasha predicted.<br/>
            “Your progress is amazing, Wanda. Soon you won’t need me anymore.”<br/>
             “Yes Chad, the ending of us working together will be terrible for us both.” He snorts. Despite our banter, and the frat boy vibes he oozes, Chad has grown on me.<br/>
            “Let’s see you walk on the treadmill,” I do as he asks, “You went swimming when you were in California last week, right? How’d that go?”<br/>
            “Fine. I have never been a fan of the water though,”<br/>
            “But did it feel good? For your leg?”<br/>
             “Yes,” I concentrate on the treadmills rotation and my leg. One step hurts more than the others, and despite my best efforts, I gasp in pain. Chad shuts off the treadmill.<br/>
            “Okay, let’s have a look,” I sit down on the end and pull off my leg, followed by the sock. Large angry blister cover the bottom of the limb.<br/>
            “It swelled up on the flight home,” I explain.<br/>
            “You’re going to have to stay off it for a few days, at least until those blisters heal.” I fall back onto the treadmill. “Stop rushing yourself, it is only going to push you farther back.”<br/>
            “Easy for you to say, you aren’t surrounded by literal superheroes twenty-four seven.”</p><p>I shove my spoon into the cereal, clinking against the porcelain. Natasha enters the kitchen, looking better than she did earlier.<br/>
            “What’s wrong?”<br/>
            “Chad benched me from wearing my leg,” I gesture to the exposed stub.<br/>
            “Wanda, oh my God.” She leans down, looking at it, “Why didn’t you say anything? When did this happen?”<br/>
            “Three days ago?”<br/>
             “Why didn’t you say something to Pepper? Or to me?”<br/>
            “There are other things going on, it didn’t seem important.”<br/>
            “Please do not tell me you are neglecting yourself for my sake,” she pulls out the first aid kit, grabbing Neosporin.<br/>
            “You do it for mine,”<br/>
            “I am an awful role model, okay?” she finishes gently applying the ointment. Her red hair falls in front of her eyes.<br/>
            “Nat, I know I’m just a kid, but you can talk to me,” she smiles and squeezes my hand.<br/>
            “I know, Little Witch, but I’m not going to burden you with my problems.” I open my mouth to protest but she stops me, “How about we go to the park? It’s a beautiful day,”<br/>
            “What about my Mandarin?”<br/>
            “Will you have it mastered in the hour that we spend outside?” I look down at my leg.<br/>
            “I don’t want to go,” I slide my empty cereal bowl over to the sink. Natasha gets up and starts washing the dish for me before I can get up. “I can do it,”<br/>
            “I know,” her lips twitch. “What if we went to the movies tonight instead?”<br/>
            “Let’s just stay in, please?”<br/>
            “Okay, I can go to the bodega and pick up some candy, we’ll have a movie marathon here. Sound like a plan?” She heads out the door, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a half hour, pick out the first movie,” I turn on the TV and pull up Netflix, clicking through the options. Outside, the streets are full. I grab my leg and slide it on, ignoring the pain, and head into the hall. There is a lock on the door to the roof. I undo it easily and make my way up. It’s warm, the spring air is crisp and clear from a rainstorm yesterday. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.<br/>
            I stand at the edge of the building, looking down at the people below. I’m surprised to see the same brother and sister racing that I saw my first meeting with Sam. They must live nearby. She’s catching up to him, or maybe he slowed down for her. It is almost dizzying, the twenty-story drop. I feel no fear. I should probably be scared. I wonder if this is how the others feel when rushing into battle. The complete absence of fear where it should be. I lean forward, getting a better look at the couple walking through the park.<br/>
            I choke and fall backwards, the neckline of the hoodie pressing against my throat.<br/>
            “Wanda, what the fuck?” Natasha is kneeling on the ground, her hands out in front of her. “Oh my God,” I roll over and cough, my eyes watering. “What were you thinking?”<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “Oh my God, oh my God.” She sits back, putting her head in her hands.<br/>
            “I wasn’t going to jump,” I snap.<br/>
            “That doesn’t matter! You aren’t steady enough on your leg for stunt like that! You aren’t even supposed to be using your leg!”<br/>
            “I can propel myself back up if I need to.” I prop myself up on my elbows.<br/>
            “Really? You used that once sparring with Cap and it lasted five seconds. Have you been able to do it again?” she runs her fingers through her hair, “How did you even get up here? I put a lock on the door,”<br/>
            “I took it off,” I reply, ducking my head.<br/>
            “I don’t know what to do,” she stares at me, “What am I doing wrong?”<br/>
            “What?”<br/>
            “What am I doing wrong? What can I do to make any of this better?”<br/>
            “Natasha, I am fine. I just wanted some fresh air,”<br/>
            “You have no regard for your own life, your own preservation,”<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “I cannot lose you, Wanda. You are the only thing in my life right now that I am sure about.” she looks over towards the park. “Please, just promise me you will tell me if things are getting bad again,” She sounds so desperate. It makes me wonder what happened these last two weeks. “Please, Little Witch,”<br/>
            “I promise.”<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Nat perspective coming soon! Something definitely happened those past two weeks- something one of my amazing commentators predicted!  As always, your feedback is welcome and appreciated! Thank you for following along with my story! (all 85,000(!!!!) words of it!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>********** Strong trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and actions***********</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I totally neglected my case study to get this out lol, but i think it was worth it! Please enjoy! Any feedback is welcome and appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<span class="u"><strong>Natasha- Fifteen Hours before the Roof</strong></span><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
            I roll up my sleeve, trying to reach for the gun I store in the vent beside the bed. It needs to be oiled. My eyes catch on my arm. My heart thuds in my ears. I push up the other sleeve. Two matching scars stare back at me, stretching from my elbows to my wrists. I don’t remember getting these, and the fact that they exist, even if faded, is enough to indicate that they are recent. I crawl onto the bed, unable to look away from the scars. Where did they come from? I feel pressure in the back of my head.<br/>
            <em>“Natasha, Natasha what are you doing? Oh my God,” </em><br/>
            No. No. I take it back. I don’t want to know.<br/>
            <em>“Someone get Bruce!” Clint’s face swims in front of me. “Natasha, stay with me! Fuck, where is Bruce?” he is pressing towels into my arms. “What were you thinking?”<br/>
            “What happened?” Bruce tries to stop the bleeding. Everything is faded, almost black. “She isn’t supposed to be able to kill herself, what happened?”<br/>
            I wake up in my bed. Clint is sitting next to me, he looks like he’s seen a ghost.<br/>
            “You’re awake,” he croaks.<br/>
            “Thanks to you,”<br/>
            “You don’t have to sound so grateful,” his eyes harden, “You can’t kill yourself; you’ve told me yourself. You begged Wanda to do it last week,”<br/>
            “Something happened, after I yelled at her,” I wince, thinking of how destroyed she looked. I had apologized. I told her to stay away. I said goodbye. I was ready. “It was like something opened up. My emotions became amplified? Is that how you all feel all the time? It was like nothing was subdued, like I was a real person. After that, more started coming. Like my brain had been chipping at the wall and it finally gave out,”<br/>
            “So you remember everything?”<br/>
            “No. That’s coming a lot slower. The only new thing I remember is Wanda saying she’d do the wipe and getting ready, and one of Bruce doing the same. But Clint, you don’t understand, I can finally go out on my own terms. I can just end it all.”<br/>
            “Natasha, you can’t kill yourself.”<br/>
            “You don’t get it. My emotions aren’t restrained anymore, I,” I pause, trying to find the courage to speak, “The missions I go on, you know what they’re like, and I am dealing with that for the first time. Please, let me go.” I am crying. And angry. And relieved. It will finally be over. I can finally rest.<br/>
            “We aren’t going to let you kill yourself, Natasha.”<br/>
            “Why? Haven’t I done enough?”<br/>
            “That isn’t the point!” I notice Bruce for the first time in the back of the room. He is brooding and silent.<br/>
            “No. You won’t do this to me against my will. Please,” I look between the two of them. “I finally feel like a human being, you can’t take that away from me,” I notice for the first time that my hands and feet are bound. “Please, don’t do this.” Neither look me in the eye. </em><br/>
            I cradle my arms close to my chest. This isn’t possible, it can’t be possible. The memory of her visiting right before I did this crashes into my thoughts. Then what I said to her. Oh my God, how could I say that to her?<br/>
            “Nat?” I sit up quickly, trying to hide my tears.        <br/>
            “Wanda?” How could she be up? It must be two o’clock on the morning. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”<br/>
            “I just didn’t want to be alone tonight,” she comes over to the bed and lies down next to me. I pull her into my embrace, pressing my face into her shoulder. Those awful things I said, and she is still here. I can’t believe I said goodbye to her. I am hit with a strong wave of emotion. Regret. Anger. Fear. Desperation. This is what everyone feels all the time.<br/>
            When I wake up, Wanda is gone. I stand up, heading into my closet in a daze. I look down at my arms to be sure what happened was real, not a dream. Not a dream. I pull on a t-shirt. I look in the mirror. I had grown out my hair over the past year. Wanda mentioned once that she liked it better long, though she had never seen it that way in real life. I grip the shelving of my closet as another memory hits.<br/>
<em>She is sitting in front of me on the floor of a barn, I’m handcuffed to a tractor. I stabbed Steve.</em><br/>
Oh my God. I stagger out of the closet. I can’t. I just got back to her, I can’t. I force myself into the hallway and to sound chipper.<br/>
            “Do you want regular pancakes or chocolate chip?” I call out, I can hear the water running from the shower. I head to the kitchen before she can reply. I pour myself a cup of coffee and then spot my arms. I can’t wear a t-shirt. I go back into my bedroom and pull on my leather jacket before rushing back to the kitchen to throw together batter.<br/>
            The batter is thick and lumpy. I pour it onto the steaming frying pan. We talk about nonsensical things, like cooking classes and returning to work. I forgot about the pancake. I quickly turn off the stove and place it in front of her. I hurt Clint. The Red Room. I killed so many people, innocent people.<br/>
            “Why not?”<br/>
            “I need to continue to help make the world safer.” My automatic response plays out, “I need to atone for the part I played to make it a little worse in the first place,” This spills out without me thinking. I shakily place a glass of orange juice in front of her. I say something about Chad, about Mandarin. <em>I’m standing over a family, all their throats slit.</em> I wander into my bedroom, cup of coffee in hand. My eyes land on my nightstand where one is already waiting. <em>There are three children. </em>What did I do?<br/>
            “Fucking damn it!” <br/>
            “What’s wrong?” Wanda appears behind me, breathless, “I don’t understand, so you made two cups of coffee?” I put down my mug. This can’t be happening. “Nat?” I think of the family of five, their blood seeping from their throats into the white carpet.<br/>
            “I thought everything was fine now, I thought I was fine,” My throat is hoarse.<br/>
            “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to catch me up.” Wanda. No. I can’t tell her. My eyes drift to the extra mug.<br/>
            “I forgot I already made coffee,” I lie.<br/>
            “It’s not a big deal, it’s just coffee. I actually need a cup anyway, so you saved me a step.” She grabs the mug, “Nat, come on, it’s fine.” I need to be alone, I can’t break down in front of her.<br/>
            “Chad will be here any minute. You should go wait for him,”<br/>
            “But,”<br/>
            “Wanda,” I warn, my patience wearing thin. She leaves the room. I can finally end it all. No one will stop me. I can finally be free.<br/>
            I think of when I was dying on the floor of the bathroom, Wanda having to find me. I can’t do that to her. I can’t let her be the one to find me. <em><br/>
            I’m in a hotel room, posing as an escort. </em><br/>
            I run my fingers through my hair. I need to shower. I need to shower. I stay until the water runs cold and I still don’t feel clean. Chad will be gone by now. I need to check on Wanda.<br/>
            I find her in the kitchen, angrily stabbing at cereal. Her shoulders are hunched and she isn’t wearing her prosthetic.<br/>
            “What’s wrong?”<br/>
            “Chad benched me from wearing my leg,” she gestures to the exposed residual limb. It is raw and blistered.<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            <em>I am pouring gasoline on a man who is squirming in his bindings.<br/>
            </em>“Oh my God,” What was I doing? How could I have done that? My gaze is on Wanda’s leg. I bend down to look at it, “Why didn’t you say anything? When did this happen?”<br/>
            “Three days ago,”<br/>
            “Why didn’t you say something to Pepper? Or to me?” I frown.<br/>
            “There are other things going on, it didn’t seem important?” That hits like a punch to the gut. I am not doing nearly as good of a job hiding as I think I am.<br/>
            “Please do not tell me you are neglecting yourself for my sake.” I reach for the Neosporin to apply to her blisters.<br/>
            “You do it for mine,” she points out. I am not you; I want to tell her. You are good. She would just argue with me.<br/>
            “I am an awful role model, okay?”<br/>
            “Nat, I know I’m just a kid, but you can talk to me,”<br/>
            <em>There is a car parked on a cliff. I fire twice, killing both passengers instantly. They are no older than sixteen.</em><br/>
            “I know, Little Witch,” I squeeze her hand, “but I’m not going to burden you with my problems.” I need to get out of the house. I need a distraction. Something. Anything. “How about we go to the park? It’s a beautiful day,” I try to sound chipper.<br/>
            “What about my Mandarin?”<br/>
            “Will you have it mastered in the hour that we spend outside?” I think it comes out harsher than I mean it to.<br/>
            “I don’t want to go.” I grab her cereal bowl and begin washing it. Something to do with my hands, something productive. “I can do it,”<br/>
            “I know,” I try to think of another thing to get us out of the house. “What if we went to the movies tonight instead?”<br/>
            “Let’s just stay in, please?” Her voice breaks. Fuck. I feel like the walls are closing in on me.<br/>
            “Okay,” I take a deep breath, “I can go to the bodega and pick up some candy, we’ll have a movie marathon here. Sound like a plan?” I rush towards the door. “I’ll be back in a half hour, pick out the first movie,”<br/>
            I end up in Central Park, sitting on a bench in front of the reservoir. I can feel my gun resting on my lower back, the cold metal a burning reminder.<br/>
            <em>I shoot someone with a camera. They fall into the dirt. We are surrounded by bombed buildings.</em><br/>
            I can stop it all. I can end it all. I can end my suffering. Wanda won’t be the one to find me. I can finally be free.<br/>
            “Excuse me?” I look away from the water. A little girl stands in front of me with a notebook. Her brother stands behind her, impatient, while their mother smile’s apologetically.<br/>
            “Come on, Dani, we aren’t done racing,”<br/>
            “You are my favorite Avenger,” she smiles shyly, “Can I please have you autograph?”<br/>
            “Of course,” my hand shakes as I take the pencil, “Make it out to Dani?”<br/>
            “Yes, D-A-N-I,” she spells it out. “You are so awesome, I have your action figure,” she holds up a well-worn doll, covered in scratches and my hair is beginning to fade. I hand her the notebook, “Thank you so much!” she clutches the notebook to her chest.<br/>
            “Thank you,” her mom smiles and herds her children as they race off. My courage bleeds into the water. I feel nothing by fear and shame. I need to get home to Wanda. By the time the elevator reaches our floor, I realize I forgot candy. I go to turn around and see the door to the roof ajar. I had placed a lock on it weeks ago, when Wanda was in a darker place than she is now. I sprint up the stairs. My heart stops. Wanda’s hair is shining in the late afternoon sun. She is standing at the edge of the roof, peering over the edge. She is considering the distance. She is considering. I run forward and pull her back by her hood. I pull so hard that we both fall back onto the pebbled roof. I lean forward, my breath coming in quick gasps, the rocks dig into my palms.<br/>
            “Wanda, what the fuck?” I have never felt so much fear coursing through me, “Oh my God, what were you thinking?”<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “Oh my God, oh my God,” I sit back, putting my head in my hands. She can’t die.<br/>
            “I wasn’t going to jump,”<br/>
            “That doesn’t matter! You aren’t steady enough on your leg for stunts like that! You aren’t even supposed to be using your leg!”<br/>
            “I can propel myself back up if I need to,”<br/>
            “Really? You used that once sparring with Cap and it lasted five seconds. Have you been able to do it again?” My fear is making me mean, angry. I need to calm down. “How did you even get up here? I put a lock on the door,”<br/>
            “I took it off,”<br/>
            “I don’t know what to do,” I stare at her, “What am I doing wrong?” I am trying so hard to be good, to be a good parent. I am failing. The only thing I seem to be able to do is kill. I think I am going to throw up. “What am I doing wrong? What can I do to make any of this better?” Is this my fault? Am I causing this distress? This behavior?<br/>
            “Natasha, I am fine. I just wanted some fresh air,”<br/>
            “You have no regard for your own life, you own preservation,” This is my fault. This is all my fault.<br/>
            “Nat,” I need to be better. Or she needs me out of her life. I don’t want to leave her, one of the few bright spots in my bleak existence. I think of what Clint said, that if I die, she will kill herself. I can’t be the one to snuff out this light. Clint and Bruce. The wiped me without my consent, messed with my head.<br/>
            “I cannot lose you, Wanda. You are the only thing in my life right now that I am sure about,” I look towards the park. “Please, just promise me you will tell me if things are getting bad again,” I need her to say yes. That she will. That things are getting better. That everything will be okay. “Please, Little Witch,”<br/>
            “I promise.” She leans against my shoulder, “I don’t think I have ever told you,” she whispers, “you’re a good mom, Nat.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter did nothing but add questions- so sorry! And this issue is far from resolved or over.  This chapter was way out of my comfort zone and I will never do another one like it, it was not fun to write! I have no clue if I did a good job or not, but I hope you all liked it! As always, any comments are super appreciated! Next chapter will be out either Tuesday or Wednesday, and the next chapter for Welcome Home will either be tonight or Monday :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and actions<br/>Not 100% sure this applies but better to be safe than sorry!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this is a really short chapter! I got everything out that I wanted to write and it only came up to 1400 words (insert shrug emoji) As always, any feedback is welcome and appreciated!<br/>I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I also want to tell her she is wrong; I have used that power before. Once in D.C., when I brought the house down around me, and the other time I prefer not to think about.<br/>
            “What kind of candy did you get for the movie?”<br/>
            “What?” she looks away from the park.<br/>
            “The movie marathon that you want to have, you went out for candy.”<br/>
            “I forgot to get some,” she stands up shakily.<br/>
            “Nat, are you okay?”<br/>
            “I think we have some popcorn in the cabinet,” I follow her down the stairs and into the apartment. Her movements are jerky, so unlike her graceful ballerina self.<br/>
            “Should I call Clint or Bruce?”<br/>
            “What?” she nearly drops the popcorn before putting it into the microwave, “No,”<br/>
            “Are you in a fight or something?”<br/>
            “Yes, something like that,” her face flashes with a familiar faraway look, but’s brief. “Did you pick out a movie?”<br/>
            “Not yet, maybe a comedy?”<br/>
            “You want to watch a comedy?” her eyes light up. I reach into the steaming bag of popcorn, avoiding her gaze. Was I causing her this much pain? I bite the inside of my cheek and follow her to the couch. “Wanda, take that leg off. You are barred from putting any weight on it. I even got a text from Chad,”<br/>
             “He seriously didn’t think I could follow one simple direction,”<br/>
            “You aren’t following that <em>one simple direction</em>,” she points out. We sit down on the couch, her fingers drumming on the arm. She never has nervous movements; she is never nervous. I push back my concern and turn on the TV. It’s the news. There is a newscaster standing in front of a hospital with a memorial plaque.<br/>
            “Today is the fifteenth anniversary of the awful fire that,” Natasha’s fingers stop drumming.<br/>
             “I will be right back,” she staggers down the hall and into the library, bumping into the wall on the way. Something is most definitely wrong. I slip on my leg and follow her. She is so lost she doesn’t even notice me enter the room. Her laptop is open in front of her. I look down, it is a news article from 2002. <em>Berlin</em> <em>Children’s Ward Fire- 328 killed</em>. I feel sick.<br/>
            “Natasha,”<br/>
            “That was my solo mission,” her eyebrows knit together, “I always thought my first mission was in Prague. Pierce said something once, so did Loki, I didn’t understand,”<br/>
            “I’m calling Bruce,” I slowly reach to grab my phone out of my back pocket.<br/>
            “Don’t call him!” she reaches out to grab my arm, her sleeve riding up. Something glints under the recessed lighting of the library. She goes to hide it, but in her dazed state, I’m faster. I pull up her sleeve all the way. A scar half an inch wide and at least six inches long covers her forearm. I grab the other arm and see the same. She pulls them away, pushing down the sleeves. “Wanda,” her voice is low.<br/>
            “Did someone do this to you?” I ask carefully, hopefully. It is a weird thing to hope that someone hurt a person you love, it seems unnatural. As long as it wasn’t her. And she can’t hurt herself. It goes against her programming. The blocks must have come down during those two weeks. She tried to kill herself. A selfish feeling of betrayal swells- how could she leave me? But it doesn’t explain her behavior now.<br/>
            “I’m okay,” her voice shakes. I’m so stupid. I didn’t notice. How didn’t I notice? Her words on the roof echo through my head. I am the one thing in her life she is sure about. “Please don’t call them,”<br/>
            “You aren’t okay, you need help.”<br/>
            “I don’t want it,” she snaps. “I finally am discovering who, what, I really am. Don’t let them take that away from me,” her eyes cloud over again. I need to call Bruce. However, she snaps back quickly, but this time, she looks crazed, like something has snapped. It fades into nothingness, a deadly blank stare. I feel my powers awaken against my will, my subconscious detecting something I haven’t. My mind races. I think of Clint cuffing her to the tractor, claiming he needed to protect his family. She used to have flashbacks when she first joined. He knew something Cap and I didn’t. The gun trained on his head after that mission. However, her features soften.<br/>
            “Nat?”<br/>
            “They erased me without my consent, Clint and Bruce. I didn’t want it, they chained me up and did it against my will. It was such a violation, to have my head messed with like that. It’s like they’re no better than the Red Room.” Her voice hitches, “I have no way of knowing who to trust,” her lip quivers. My heart aches. I can’t call them, betray her. “Can I trust you, Wanda?”<br/>
             She looks into my eyes and that is her mistake. I see it, the same glint as when she is looking at a mark.<br/>
            “Did you just try to manipulate me?” I choke, hot tears rising up. She is faking vulnerability and emotions. There is no regret in her gaze. This is the Black Widow, the real Black Widow. Not Natasha. My mouth is dry. She is looking at me like prey. I can’t hurt her. She knows this. “FRIDAY, send an SOS.” I bite my lip, “I’m sorry, Nat.” I let my inhibitions flow and am able to read her thoughts. They are messy and chaotic. Only bits and pieces, the past and present coexisting at the same time. She probably has no idea what year it is, where she is. I use my powers to push the chair back, locking her arms and legs in place. She is surprised. I can feel all of her emotions. This is only the second time I have ever been able to do so, the first being just a few weeks ago, as she lay in a coma. This is all my fault. I continuously break and destroy her. The emotions are strong and powerful, like the force of a rising tide. Fear. Confusion. Hatred. Love. I pause at the last one and my powers slip. She uses this opportunity to jump up from the chair. I react quickly and she flies up against the wall. The drywall cracks and she lands with a thud, unmoving. Her thoughts have slowed to a sluggish pace. She is in pain, but she may kill me if I try to provide first aid. I use my powers to prop her up against the wall. She is still conscious, though her head lolls to the side. She is completely broken, shattered. The blankness in her gaze is gone, the impact seemingly knocking her out of the state she was in. I approach slowly. She is pleading with me and I know it is not to stop me from calling Bruce. <br/>
            “I’m sorry Natasha,” tears drip down my face, “I can’t do it,” Instead, I reach out and let the tendrils of my powers reach inside her head. I search for the memory and find it beneath the rubble of her consciousness. It comes forward easily. The music filtering in. The crunch of snow and ice. A snow-covered gazebo. I play it on repeat for the both us until the team arrives.</p>
<hr/><p>            Natasha is heavily sedated. I stare at her sleeping form, my armchair brought up to the bed. Every few minutes, I raise my hand and bring a new happy memory forward for her. Anything to ease her pain. Pain I have continuously caused. This all stems from South Korea. I was incompetent in the field. Now, seven months later, she continues to pay for it. I am like a cancer, destruction trailing my path. I have destroyed everyone I ever cared about. I killed Pietro by convincing him to join the Avengers. I didn't get to Clint fast enough. I have tortured Natasha from the moment I met her. <br/>
            “Wanda?” I look up and see Clint, he has two cups of coffee. I take it gratefully. “You did the right thing, calling us. I want you to know that,” I nod mutely, bringing up a new memory. Christmas. That was a perfect day. When it ends, I find Lila’s birth. “She loves you,” I look at Natasha and my heart feels full. I am cared for. I feel friendship and adoration. When I am with her I feel safe. But I have been selfish for far too long. <br/>
           “I know, I love her too.” I feel a single tear snake down my cheek, “Which is why I think we should respect her wishes.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Cliff hanger!! Sorry again for the short chapter, I didn't want to ruin it by being long winded!<br/>I have some questions for my lovely readers!<br/>1. Would you be interested in a prequel of Nat when she first joins up with Clint and SHIELD based on some of the flashbacks? I have a chapter or two written out already, but there are so many Nat Origin fics out there that idk if you all want to read that!<br/>2. Any requests for this story? I have a few plot points coming up in mind, but would happily apply any requests or ideas that you may have!<br/>Thank you all for following along with my story!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What is going to happen to Nat? What will Clint decide? Find out below! As always, comments and feedback are always welcome! I am currently working on further developing this series, so as mentioned in Welcome Home, it is the perfect time for any requests you may have! I have the ending to part 4 but not the middle or the end lol, and I am playing with the first few chapters of a prequel! Any who, enjoy and thank you for following along!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “What the fuck Wanda, we aren’t going to kill her!” Clint slams his coffee down on the end table.<br/>
            “I don’t mean kill her, Jesus Christ Clint!” I glare at him. “Why would I want kill her? In what world would that make any sense?” My accent slips as the fear and anger rise. I can see by the look in his eyes, a part of him was considering it, letting her die. I can’t say the same thought didn’t cross my mind. That it would be kinder, less selfish. But the mere suggestions of it horrifies us both.<br/>
            “You could have framed it better!” he yells back<br/>
            “English is my fourth fucking language, sorry!” I can feel the red flickering in my eyes. I force myself to relax. I can’t lose control in this room. I take deep breaths. Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven. Exhale for eight.<br/>
            “Then what do you mean?” Clint pushes himself to calm down as well.<br/>
            “Not put the walls back up. Maybe with therapy and medication, she could be okay. She could still feel human,” I slip back into my American accent.<br/>
            “Wanda, that is very sweet and so kind, but honey it wouldn’t work.” The memory of Lila’s birth comes to an end and I bring forth the one of us at the food court.<br/>
            “Why wouldn’t it work?” I take my attention away from Natasha for a moment. Clint looks conflicted, “Why wouldn’t it work?” I repeat, shifting in my seat to face him. He sits down in the other armchair across from me, gripping his coffee cup like a security blanket.<br/>
            “The first year that Nat joined was actually really good. It was happy. But then we had a chance to take down the Red Room. We had to do it, of course. It was a hard mission, but we mostly succeeded. We also got a hold of all the files. After reading them, Natasha destroyed all of it. SHIELD was furious, but looking back it was a good thing, since they turned out to be Hydra,” he gets lost in the story for a moment. “But something broke a little in Nat that day. I am going to explain the blocks to you like how she explained them to me,” he takes a deep breath, “They don’t just keep out memories that would get in the way of the mission, they stop the serum from taking over. Natasha has the same knock off serum as the super soldiers, like Bucky.”<br/>
            “But they are mindless robots, Nat obviously isn’t,”<br/>
            “As Natasha said, Black Widows are supposed to be cunning, flirtatious, sociable, be quick thinkers, problem solvers. They have to be more than a mercenary that follows orders. So the block were put in place to stop the serum from gaining control. They allow her to think for herself, to have some emotions, to be a little free.”<br/>
            “How do you know? How do you know that they weren’t lying?”<br/>
            “It happened to Natasha’s favorite sister about a year after the Red Room mission.” I reel at the word sister, but Clint doesn’t even pause, “Yelena’s blocks went down. At first, she was just hit with all the memories, then the emotions, and then the emotions ran out. She became one of them, mindless. Natasha had to kill her. We were in the middle of the Russian wilderness, she didn’t have the means to put the blocks back up, and Yelena would kill anyone in her path.” I think of the blank look that was entering Natasha’s eyes when I threw her against the wall. “That is why she has always asked for the mental blocks to be put back up, she knows she needs them. But this time, I think she was just done,” he frowns, “I would love for Nat to be able to live without these limitations, but she can’t.” He looks over at Natasha. “Those blocks act as a filter for the serum so not as much enters her brain, it is like a wall of defense. It doesn’t make sense to me, but it doesn’t matter if I get how it works, just that it does.”<br/>
            There is a knock at the door and Bruce enters.<br/>
             “We should get started,”<br/>
            “We?” I raise my eyebrows.<br/>
            “It will go twice as fast with you, and I’m sure you can be even more precise than I am." He looks over at Nat, “Do you know the exact moment the walls first broke?” I nod. I could feel the memory as I brought the happier ones to the forefront. It felt cracked and sharp, like broken glass. Bruce snakes a tube down her throat to preserve her airway and sets up the electric pulsar machine. I close my eyes and set to work.</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
            I turn to the side and vomit. Half-digested Cheerios and coffee splatter into a bedpan. Bruce pulls away the machine that was over Natasha’s head.<br/>
            “Shit, Wanda,” I throw up again, this time there is only stomach acid. My throat burns.<br/>
            “I-I’m okay,” I stutter, gripping the railing of the hospital bed.<br/>
             “You did good kid,” Clint compliments.<br/>
            “I had to go in and fix the other wall, from after her surgery. It was too weak, that’s why everything collapsed.”<br/>
            “We were scared to have her under too long after going through such a major trauma.” Bruce explains.<br/>
            “You should have called me in, I could have done it with her awake.” Bruce shakes his head and his phone pings. I see Fury’s name on the screen. Bruce steps out.<br/>
            “Nat didn’t want you to see her like that, Wanda.”<br/>
            “But this is all my fault, I should have been the one to try and fix it in the first place,”<br/>
             “Wands,”<br/>
            “No! It is my fault. I didn’t notice! I was so wrapped up in myself that I didn’t see her dying in front of me! And it all goes back to South Korea where I screwed up. If I hadn’t, none of this would have happened.”<br/>
            “Natasha does not blame you for South Korea. She has told me multiple times what happened. It is not your fault,” he pauses, “And you have been going through a lot. No one, especially Nat, blames you for her getting sick.”<br/>
            “I could have done more,” I argue.<br/>
            “You are so much like her, it amazes me,” he smiles fondly at me. “I have never seen her care about someone more than she cares about you. It’s like that filter doesn’t exist as far are you’re concerned.” His smile grows, “Laura says there is nothing in this world stronger than a mother’s love.” I think of the adoption papers left on Natasha’s desk, waiting for a judge’s approval. I forgot to tell her I signed them. “You should get something to eat, she won’t wake up for another few hours.”<br/>
            “I don’t want to leave her,”<br/>
            “She won’t be alone,” he insists. I head into the hall, bumping into Steve.<br/>
            “Hi Wanda,”<br/>
            “Hi,” I look at Steve. I have only seen him once since I had my leg amputated, and it was when Natasha was dying. He looks like crap. He hasn’t shaved and his hair is a mess. He looks exhausted.<br/>
            “How’s Nat?”<br/>
            “She’s going to be okay,” I reply. His gaze drifts to my missing limb. “I am going to grab a bite to eat if you’d like to come,”<br/>
            “I can make spaghetti,” he offers. I follow him into the residential wing. I sit at the island watching him move about. He boils the water and begins chopping up garlic.<br/>
            “You’ve been avoiding me,”<br/>
            “No I haven’t. I’ve been out on missions,”<br/>
            “You’ve been avoiding Nat too,”<br/>
            “I have been working hard to recover those weapons,”        <br/>
            “You’ve hit a lull?” I ask, reaching forward to grab some bread.<br/>
            “There’s two shipments left that we haven’t found,” he admits.<br/>
            “You’ll find it,”<br/>
             “Not soon enough.”<br/>
             “You shouldn’t blame yourself,” I offer. “I don’t blame you.” He looks up at me, surprised.<br/>
            “It is my fault, even Natasha blames me.”<br/>
            “I was the one who insisted on going on the mission. We had no way of knowing how big the operation really was. You didn’t fire the weapon,”<br/>
            “Has anyone ever told you to take your own advice?” My ears burn.<br/>
            “We’re talking about you right now.” I rip off the piece of the bread and pop it in my mouth.<br/>
            “I’m glad you’re doing better Wanda; we were all worried.”<br/>
            “You know Sam had me name my residual limb?”<br/>
            “What?”<br/>
            “Yes, he said it is a thing some amputees do to help cope. I don’t know if it helped,” I shrug.<br/>
            “What did you name it?”<br/>
            “Wand, because it looks like a wand and well my name is Wanda and I’m a witch,” a smile slips its way onto my lips, “And Clint’s name for me in sign language is the word wand, it works,” He places the garlic bread in front of me and puts the jarred sauce on the stove to heat up. “Steve, I have to ask you something,” he drains the water from the spaghetti into the sink.<br/>
            “Shoot,”<br/>
            “It is going to sound awful and cruel, and I hate myself for it.” He looks up from the pasta, his eyes serious. “How did you trust Nat again? After she attacked you?”<br/>
            “She believed me when no one else did, followed me away from the only home she ever knew.” He pours the pasta into a bowl and adds the sauce, “Without her, I’d be dead.” He splits it onto two plates, “Why do you ask?”<br/>
            “Nat, she used me and then tried to attack me,” I look down at the food and fear I am going to throw up again. “But she wasn’t her, I keep telling myself that. And how can I not trust her? I have hurt her so many times,” I am about to say she has never used it against me, but I think of her demand after the surgery. That doesn’t count. She wasn’t herself. “She always forgives me,”<br/>
            “Natasha is the most loyal person I have ever met. She has such a huge heart; she just give and gives until there is nothing left. And then she gives more.” He twirls his spaghetti, “Any hurt she has ever caused you will live with her whether she remembers it or not. Even though she didn’t know that she stabbed me, she knew she hurt me in some way and worked tirelessly to repair any damage done. She is never going to forgive herself for trying to hurt you, Wanda. And she will spend a lifetime trying to make it up to you.” He takes a sip of water. “Did that help? At all?” Steve looks at me nervously.<br/>
            “Yes,” I go to wash my plate.<br/>
            “I’ve got it, get back to Nat. She’ll want you there when she wakes up.”<br/>
            “Thank you, Steve,” I stand up from the stool, “And even though I don’t think it was your fault, I forgive you,” I try to help absolve any of the guilt he is harboring. I give him a quick smile and hurry back to Natasha’s room in the medical wing.<br/>
            I find Clint asleep, using both armchairs. Natasha is still chained up to be safe, but there is a pang in my heart to think how she is going to wake up like a prisoner. I go over and prop my crutches against the bed, crawling in at the end and scooting up to lie next to her. My back presses against the guard rail in the narrow bed. I curl in next to her, resting my head right below her shoulder. Her heartbeat is steady, and my head moves slightly with each breath. As I lay beside her, any doubts I had about trusting her melt away. I have never felt safer.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well that's all folks!<br/>JK! We aren't done yet! It was finally revealed why Nat continues to view herself as a monster despite all the good she has done. Thank you all again for your amazing comments! Each one is extremely appreciated and look forward to them every time I post!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>****Minor trigger warning for reference to suicide****</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you all like the chapter! I know it’s weird that I am posting during the day an not 1 am 😂🤪 Still taking requests for Part 4! As always, any feedback is welcome! Enjoy! ☺️</p><p>(Sorry for the formatting issues, uploaded from my phone again)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Early morning sunlight shines onto my face, warm and comforting. I open my eyes and squint at the bright light. There is a heavy weight just below my shoulder. I look down and see the top of Wanda’s head, a mass of auburn hair gathered into a bun. It is tangled, and the bun is an obviously haphazard attempt to get it out of the way. Her chest rises and falls evenly, She has an arm draped across my stomach. I go to push a few stray hairs out of her face and find my wrists are bound. So are my ankles. I look around, I’m in a hospital bed. This isn’t our apartment. The last thing I remember is getting takeout, then Wanda heading to bed. But I can feel an overwhelming sense of remorse taking over as I look at Wanda. I did something that I don’t remember. What’s worse, I think I did something to her. They had to put up blocks. </p><p></p><div>
  <p>“Nat?” Wanda raises her head sleepily. She smiles when she sees I’m awake, but there is trepidation in her gaze, likely for the same reason I feel so much guilt. I hurt her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hi, Little Witch,” her blue eyes sparkle when they meet mine and the hesitation is gone. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s you,” she sighs with relief, looking up at me.  What did I do to her? This close, I can see the scar from when she bit through her lip, a tiny sliver of silk on her otherwise porcelain skin. I had failed her then, and I can’t help but feel I have somehow failed her now. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey Tash, welcome back.” I look over and see Clint laying across two armchairs. “I’m going to go grab Bruce, okay?” He stands up and jogs out of the room. Wanda stretches beside me, sitting up. I look down at my bound wrists.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sorry, we can’t take them off until Bruce gives the okay,” She seems reluctant to say anything else. The door opens once more and Clint returns with Bruce. He won’t meet my eyes. Wanda scrambles off the bed and into one of the chairs. She isn’t wearing her leg and cringed as her residual limb hits the cushion.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He puts down the bed rails and begins an examination. I follow his finger with my eyes and have a light shone into them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What is the last thing you remember?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Dinner with Wanda, we ordered takeout,” Bruce doesn’t move to unlock me from the cuffs. I really messed up. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s her,” Wanda insists. What does that mean? I look to Clint, he looks like hell. But, he nods to Bruce who removes the handcuffs. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Glad to have you back, Nat.” What is that supposed to mean? Back? As far as I can tell I didn’t go anywhere. I think of the guilt I am feeling, the fear in their eyes. I look over at Clint. He gives a slight nod, confirming my suspicions. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No,” I breathe. Clint steps forward and squeezes my shoulder, “No,” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Natasha, it’s okay.” I look to Wanda who is avoiding my eyes. No. What did I do? How could I have let it go so far? I go to pull my hair away from my face and freeze. A scar, just barely there, is covering my forearm. There’s an identical one on the other. Oh. Things got very bad. I wonder, morbidly, how close I got. I can tell Wanda is biting the inside of her cheeks, as she always does when she is upset. She is wringing her hands. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What did I do to you?” It comes out harsher than I meant it to, my fear manifesting as anger. She flinches. My guilt doubles. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Natasha, let’s not press it,” Clint warns.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No, I have to know.” I pull my shoulder out of Clint’s grasp. The movement hurts my back. I notice for the first time that my back aches. I climb out of bed and go into the bathroom. After tearing off my T-shirt, I twist to look. There is a large bruise forming just at the bottom of my ribs, covering the area around my spine. This happened recently, at least in the last twenty-four hours. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Wanda breathes. I look over at her, and then to Clint and a Bruce. I pull back on my shirt.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Someone tell me what happened, please.” So many possibilities race through my head. “What did I do?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“We can’t risk the barriers breaking again,” Clint says quietly. I stare at the three of them, unsure of what to do next. My hands are getting clammy. My heart is racing. I feel like I’m not getting enough oxygen. I feel like my lungs are collapsing again. “Hey, breathe, it’s okay. No one is upset with you,” he approaches me slowly, “Deep breaths, Nat.” Wanda’s eyes are huge, staring. Shit, I’m making things worse. I push down my panic. That can be dealt with later. I can’t lose it in front of her, not after the unknown hell she endured because of me. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m okay,” I try to preserve what dignity I have after that small meltdown. Bruce’s phone starts to ring and Wanda shoots him an annoyed look. He mumbles and apology and rushes out. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What if you guys come out to the farm for a few days?” Clint offers. “I think it would be good for you,” he looks to me.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t need to be babysat,” I snap.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I know, that Nat, but when was the last time you two visited? The kids miss you,”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’d like to go,” Wanda adds. She looks at me pleadingly. She doesn’t want to go home. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Fine.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Good, you still have stuff there so we can head out from here, sound like a plan?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sounds like a plan,” I reply dryly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Great, I’m going to go let Laura know we’re coming.” I look over at Wanda. I want to accuse her of forcing my hand, and that I don’t need Clint to watch me, but I don’t know what has happened since we ate the Chinese food. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, as much as I want to go home, she might not feel safe. I wouldn't blame her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“How long has it been?” I finally get the courage to ask. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“About a day and a half,” she plays with a loose lock of hair. “Clint brought you some extra clothes, they’re in the wardrobe,” I look down at the clothes I’m currently wearing. Leggings and a T-shirt. Where we out in public when it happened? These clothes tell me nothing. I open up the dresser and change into jeans and a sweater. My shoes sit on the floor of the closet with a pair of socks. My back throbs in protest as I bend down to lace the boots up. I turn around. Wanda is wincing as she massages her stump. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Why aren’t you wearing your leg?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Chad benched me, I over did it.” She grimaces as she slides the sock back on. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Can I take a look?” I step forward and Wanda’s eyes flash red and her body tenses. Scarlet tendrils flicker at her fingertips, like she’s ready for a fight. I stop in my tracks, my heart breaking. The power quickly fades and Wanda looks horrified with herself. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” her lip trembles, she is trying not to cry. “It was a mistake, involuntary,” she rambles, “I’m sorry,”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“That’s okay.” I dig my nails into the palm of my hands. What did I do to her?  I head towards the door, “Let’s get going, would hate to leave Clint waiting.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Wanda’s mood sours as she sees Clint putting a folding wheelchair on the quinjet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t want it,” She hates the chair, I think it is what motivated her to move so quickly to crutches. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Wanda, you don’t balance well on the crutches without your leg,” I point out. She is shaky at best, and lucky she hasn’t fallen yet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Fine, bring it. But don’t expect me to use it,” she sinks into one of the seats, glowering. Clint and I head up to the front. I sit down in the copilot’s seat as he starts up the jet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey,” I look over at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hi,” he smiles at me briefly, lifting the quinjet. It’s a tight, tired smile. It’s the kind you do when passing someone on the street, not one you give to your best friend. “It should be a quick ride, maybe an hour or two.” He shifts into autopilot. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Did you see it?” I sign to him, “Me? When they all broke down?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No, only Wanda did.” He replies in the same manner. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Great,” I groan.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“She was actually really good about it,” he interjects, “She kept you calm the whole time until we arrived, even once you were sedated.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“How did she do that?” Clint’s eyes soften and he is about to explain when the quintet jerks. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Shit,” he exclaims. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What was that?” Wanda calls out from the back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Just some turbulence, probably should have paid attention to the forecast, it’s a little windy,” he shifts out of autopilot and concentrated on the sky.</p>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p>We land at the farm and head to the house. Wanda used her crutches after staring at Clint and I in defiance before we gave up on the wheelchair. Clint unlocks the door. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Honey, I’m home,” There is the thundering of feet on the stairs, accompanied by hollering. However it slips quickly into silence as they see us. Their eyes are glued to Wanda. This is their first time seeing her since she lost her leg. I am sure Laura did her best to prepare them, but it was not enough. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey you two, aren’t you going to say hi?” They don’t move. Her eyes begin to fill with tears. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hey welcome back,” Laura comes out of the kitchen with Nate on her hip. “We haven’t see you two since Lyla’s birthday in February,” her tone is teasing. “Wanda, you are going to help me in the kitchen right? The only thing Nat seems to be able to do is chop vegetables,” she hands me Nate. Wanda grins and moves towards the kitchen to help Laura. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Guys what was that?” Clint turns to his two older children. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“We just forgot, I don’t know.” Cooper scuffs his shoe.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It didn’t seem real, before we saw it,” Lila ducks her head, equally embarrassed. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Just go help Mom in the kitchen,” the scurry off.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I should make them apologize,”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No, bringing any more attention to the fact would just upset Wanda even more.” I pass him Nate and start up the stairs.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Where are you going?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I have some work I want to get done,” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Work?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yes, I was cleared for desk work,” I cross my arms. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“But that was before,”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Before I lost my mind?” I cock an eyebrow. “I’m probably stabler now than I was when I was cleared.” I head into my room and close the door. Work. I need to focus on work. Not the overwhelming guilt and shame. Not the flash of red in Wanda’s eyes when I tried to check her injuries. I flip open my old laptop that I found in my room at the compound. It is still synced to the the one at home. I manage to retrieve all my old files. I pull up my browser. <em>Chrome previously shutdown unexpectedly, would you like to restore your previous pages? </em>I click yes. An article about a hospital fire comes up. Wanda must have been using my computer for some type of research. More than three hundred kids died. I close the page and sign into the internal site for uploading translations and set to work. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There is a knock at the door. Laura opens it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Dinner is almost ready,”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I would love for you to join us, Nat. We made pulled pork and corn on the cob,” she smiles, “Wanda showed Lila how to make corn husk dolls,” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Is she better than when we came in?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Yes, the kids felt bad about that, I’m sorry, I should have done more to prep them,” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It isn’t your fault, I’m still not used to it,” I admit. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“So will you join us?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I think it’s best if I give Wanda a little space right now. Maybe I will come down later,” Laura frowns but knows better than to push, closing the door behind her.  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A little familiar, huh? Old habits die hard, and I guess that even holds true for master assassins as well!<br/>There is a major aspect of Wanda’s recovery that I am yet to focus on, so that will definitely be coming into play. Natasha has some serious stuff to work through too. Mom-Nat moments to come! Thank you all for following along and can’t wait to hear what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Enjoy! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “Is she coming down for dinner?” I turn as Laura enters the kitchen. Lila is finishing up her doll in front of me. Laura shakes her head.<br/>
            “I’ll go grab her,” Clint hands me Nate.<br/>
            “I think maybe we leave her be right now,” she suggests gently, “She said she might join us later on,”<br/>
            “Laura you didn’t see,” his eyes shift to Lila, remembering that she is in the kitchen.<br/>
            “Didn’t see what?” she asks, getting up to go to the fridge.<br/>
            “This new movie that Wanda was recommending,” he replies. I shoot him a glare.<br/>
            “What movie?” Cooper asks, coming in from feeding the chickens outside.<br/>
            “Just some comedy,” I reply.<br/>
            “What’s it called?”<br/>
             “I can’t remember, but I am pretty sure we weren’t playing Twenty Questions,” I try to tease lightly.<br/>
            “Let’s have dinner, is the corn done?” Laura asks Clint, changing the subject.<br/>
            Natasha doesn’t come down later for dessert, or for the movie. Laura brings her leftovers, but when I head up to bed, the plate is in the hallway, a single bite taken out of the sandwich.<br/>
            I sit on the bed in the guest room. This is my first time staying here. Normally the house is so full we have to double up and I am in Natasha’s room. There is a moon nightlight plugged into the wall, and the quilt on the bed is soft and worn. I take the decorative pillows off and climb under the covers, hoping to finally get a good night’s sleep. </p>
<hr/><p>            “Wanda, wake up honey,” Natasha is stroking my hair. She flicks on the light. My face is wet with tears.<br/>
            I cry, writhing in pain. “It won’t go away,” <br/>
            “Sit up, here you go,” Natasha hands me a glass of water and two Advil. She then takes a throw pillow off the floor and props up my leg.<br/>
            “How did you know?” I hand her back the glass.<br/>
            “You were crying in your sleep,” I massage my stump, staring at it. The blisters have all turned into ugly scabs. There is no foot to feel pain, yet mine is on fire. The phantom pain starts to subside.<br/>
            “What time is it?”<br/>
            “Two o’clock,”<br/>
            “I was that loud?” I look towards the hall, half expecting the Barton family to be gathered.<br/>
            “No, you didn’t make a sound, I was just coming in to check on you,”<br/>
            “Check on me?”<br/>
            “I do every night,” she says quietly, embarrassed. My heart swells that she cares that much. However, if she is in here checking on me, she isn’t sleeping herself. “Can I get you anything else?” I shake my head and continue to massage the limb. “Here, let me do that, you rest,”<br/>
            I lie back down, “Thank you, Nat,” I mumble into my pillow.<br/>
            I wake up and hear Clint whispering fervently to Natasha, who is sitting on the ground next to my bed, a hand on my leg.<br/>
            “Natasha, do you how scared I was to go in and not find you? I thought,”<br/>
             “I was checking on Wanda, I must have fallen asleep,”<br/>
             “You can’t do that, please, you can’t,”<br/>
             “Clint, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She stands up.<br/>
            “I can’t lose you, okay? It was too close,”<br/>
             “You aren’t going to lose me, I won’t let it happen again, okay?” she asks, “Come on, I don't want to wake up Wanda," The door opens and clicks shut. I fall back asleep.</p><p>She isn’t at breakfast. I play a boardgame with Lila and the clock ticks behind us, a reminder of the time passed without Natasha coming downstairs. It is nearly noon. Clint storms by us.<br/>
            “Uh oh,” Lila rolls the dice, “Someone is in trouble,” she looks to the stairs and then back down at the boardgame, “I passed go, I need $200.” There is some indiscernible yelling from upstairs, followed by a door slamming. “Slamming doors means doing more chores,” Lila turns to Laura who is playing with Nate on the couch.<br/>
            “That rule doesn’t apply to Dad, doofus,” Cooper looks up from his comic book.<br/>
            “Coop, be nice to your sister.”<br/>
            “Okay everyone, we are going on a picnic, change into your swimsuits.” Clint appears at the bottom of the stairs. “Cooper, we’re making sandwiches, come on,”<br/>
            Half an hour later, Natasha enters the living room. She picks up Nate and coos, bouncing him on her hip.<br/>
            “Alright everyone, let’s get going,” Clint holds up a large basket. He pulls me off to the side. “Hey, Wanda, it’s a bit of a long walk,”<br/>
            “No,” I shake my head.<br/>
            “It’s uneven and I would hate for you to fall.”<br/>
             “I’m not touching that thing, okay?” I head over to Laura and don’t miss the look exchanged between them.<br/>
            We walk along a dirt path, worn from many outings. The kids race ahead, with Clint chasing after them at Laura’s insistence. There is a small slope about halfway through that I manage to get down without incident, the rocks imbedded providing holds for my crutches. But by the time we reach the pond, I am exhausted and collapse into the overgrown grass.<br/>
            “You okay?” Laura asks.<br/>
            “Yes, that was just farther than I was expecting,” My arms ache and I think I will have permanent indents in my forearm from where the crutches rest.<br/>
            The late spring air and warm is sweet. It smells like honeysuckle and sunshine. We eat lunch, Natasha noticeably hanging behind, even after Lila tries to drag her over to us. I sit beside her while everyone else is in the water. She is despondent, her eyes downcast and face expressionless.<br/>
            “Natasha,” I try for the third time. She finally turns to look at me. She looks like a kicked dog. “What’s wrong?”<br/>
             “Nothing, I’m good.” She plasters on a smile, “Why aren’t you swimming?”<br/>
            “Why are you lying?” I counter.<br/>
            “I am not,”<br/>
            “Something is obviously wrong.” I bite my cheek, “I was a too wrapped up in myself to notice before, and I’m sorry,” my throat it tight.<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
             “No, let me finish. You were sick, and I didn’t see it. And I’m sorry, I will never forgive myself. But right now, I see you and you aren’t okay.” Her gaze moves to the water where the Barton’s are swimming.<br/>
            “I know what happen when everything comes undone. You were the only one there,”<br/>
             “You didn’t hurt me,”<br/>
             “You’re telling me I didn’t try?” She raises an eyebrow. I say nothing, the only thing worse would be to lie. “I can’t live with myself, the fact that I tried to hurt you,”<br/>
            “I have hurt you so many times, that isn’t fair.” The urge to confess takes over before I can change my mind, “I looked at your memories again, when you were in a coma,”<br/>
            “I know,” she looks over at me with a sad smile, finally taking her eyes off the water.<br/>
            “You know?”<br/>
            “Yes, I remembered a few hours after I woke up.”<br/>
            “You didn’t say anything,”<br/>
            “You were hurting enough,” she brushes my hair back and begins to work on a braid. Her fingers move deftly on my scalp until a crown braid forms. “You are the most important person in my life, I will never stop putting you first,”<br/>
            “No! I hurt you again and again and you just forgive me! You always say you are such a terrible person; I am so much worse. I make these horrible, awful mistakes,”<br/>
            “Do you learn from them?” Natasha asks suddenly interjecting. Her eyes are alive, like something has woken up inside of her. It surprises me into answering.<br/>
            “Yes,”<br/>
            “And do you try to be better in the future?”<br/>
            “Yes,”<br/>
            “Then you aren’t a bad person, Wanda,” she lies back on the grass, “I don’t remember most of my mistakes. I can’t learn from them. I can’t try to be better. The ones I do remember are so heinous, so disgusting, that I can’t believe that I have done worse. But I know I have. And there is no way for me to try and fix what I have done.”<br/>
            “But,”<br/>
            “And I have seen what happens when a Black Widow reverts to her natural state. My natural state of mind is a mindless killer. That is the core of who I am.”<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “Go swimming, Wanda.” She closes her eyes and the sun reflects off her red hair. It looks like fire.<br/>
            I leave her alone and strip down to my swimsuit, grabbing my right crutch and making my way slowly towards the pond’s edge. Lila whoops when she sees me coming over.<br/>
            “You’re coming swimming?” she grins.<br/>
            “Of course,” Clint climbs out of the water and offers me his arm. I drop the crutch and give a shaky smile. I can feel Natasha watching me. There is a quick three-legged race until we are waist deep and I can stand on my own, the water doing most of the work.<br/>
            “Look at you!” Laura praises, twirling Nate around in the clear water. The tips of my ears get hot. I feel a splash of water hit my back. “Cooper!” Laura scolds. I turn around with a smile and use my powers to send a small wave crashing over him.      <br/>
            “So cool! Me next!” Lila clamors, swimming over. I look around for Clint and see him at the water’s edge. From his back, I can tell he is signing to Nat, he then goes to join her, bringing a sandwich from the basket. I watch until I see Natasha take a bite and I feel the tension I didn’t know I was carrying lessen.<br/>
            “Wanda, can you make a bigger wave?” Cooper asks. I do as he asks, and he collapses into a fit of laughter afterwards. Cooper and Lila jump out from an overhanging tree and have me rate their splash. Laura and Nate are at the edge, playing with a bucket of water.<br/>
            “Okay everyone, I think it is time to pack up,” Clint puts his hearing aids back in. The afternoon warmth has begun to fade, the sun no longer high in the sky. “And I believe two people have school tomorrow.”<br/>
            As we begin the trek back to the house, Clint has his arm around Natasha, whispering something to her. Laura walks just a few steps behind them. I look away, feeling like I am intruding on a personal moment. The sheer size of his farm amazes me. It is probably why the quinjet is able to land here so often without anyone noticing.<br/>
            “So next time you and Auntie Nat come to visit, we will have to buy surfboards and you can create waves in the pond!” Cooper looks at me excitedly. I smile and we begin to go up the hill.<br/>
            “I think that is a great idea Coop, what do you think Lila?” I turn to look at her and feel one of my crutches hitch, getting stuck against a rock. My balance falters. The pain is blinding. I can’t focus on anything else.<br/>
            “Clint call an ambulance, get the kids away from here.” I hear Natasha’s voice echo, like I am underwater. “Wanda, I need you to look at me, tell me what hurts,” I blink, trying to focus. The pain is radiating up through my hip. “I am going to have to pick you up, okay? This might hurt,” An animalistic groan escapes me, the pain increasing tenfold. I vomit. “Come on honey, focus on my voice,” I gulp, trying to get in air. I feel lightheaded and close my eyes, trying to curb the nausea. “You need to breath, we’re almost back at the house okay?”<br/>
            “Ambulance is here, Nat,” Clint calls. Natasha goes to put me down and I clutch her shirt.<br/>
            “Wanda, we need to put you down on the stretcher, honey, you have to let go,”<br/>
            “Don’t leave me,” I open up my eyes, focusing on the red hair like a beacon. Nothing else is able to come into focus. Nothing else really matters. The gurney begins to move, and the flash of red disappears. It is replaced by cold steel. Where did she go? I try to sit up, but my chest has been strapped down. I can’t be strapped down. I try to push against it, but a new wave of pain erupts from my leg. I turn my head to the side and vomit again.<br/>
            “I’m right here, I’m right here,” she grips my hand and pushes away the hair that become plastered to my forehead with sweat.<br/>
            “It hurts,” I cry, my back arching in pain. Terror courses through my and I hold her hand tighter. “Don’t leave me, Mom, please don’t leave me,”<br/>
            “Never, Little Witch.”<br/>
 </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed!! Thank you all for following along, can't wait to hear what you think!<br/>Next chapter will be out in a few days! :)</p><p>*i had a longer end note explaining some things but they turned into spoilers so here we are lol 😂🤦🏽♀️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*******Trigger warning for noncon kind of? Playing it safe!*********</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Wanda is sleeping, a pharmacy of painkillers coursing through her body. Clint sits behind me on the windowsill, while I can’t bring myself to take my eyes off of her.<br/>
            “It isn’t your fault, Nat,”<br/>
             “I should have been walking behind her, helping her.”<br/>
            “She would have hated if you did that,” he points out, “I tried to get her to come in the wheelchair, that was a strong no. She has always been stubborn.”<br/>
            “Well now she won’t have a choice on the wheelchair.” The doctor said she won’t be able to put her prosthetic on for at least six to eight weeks. This is with her slightly faster healing. Her leg is elevated and wrapped in a plaster cast. There is a decent sized fracture on the base of the bone. The pain from hitting the raw nerve endings and the still healing leg, my heart breaks for her.<br/>
            “Do you want to get some rest? I can watch her,”<br/>
            “She called me Mom,” The crown braid I had done earlier has completely fallen out, and tousled waves surround her head instead. “She probably thought her mom was there I don’t think she even knows she said it, she must have said it by mistake, she was in so much pain. But, I can’t say I didn’t wish it were true,”<br/>
            “You are her mom, Tash,” Clint sighs. “You know how I said she kept you calm the whole time?” I nod, watching the rise and fall of her chest. “Well you were in really bad shape, even sedated the machines were picking it up. She sat beside you for hours, filtering your thoughts to be only happy memories. She didn’t stop until I finally forced her to get something to eat,”<br/>
            “She is so good. I am so scared that I’m going to screw her up. I don’t deserve her.”<br/>
            “Everyone is scared and screwing up their kids, it is the big secret of parenting. If you weren’t scared, I’d say you’re doing it wrong.” I hear him hop off the windowsill. He turns the chair around, “And I have never met anyone else more deserving of love.” I shake my head, “No, Natasha. I have been trying to explain this to you all weekend and you can’t seem to get it through your thick Russian skull,” I roll my eyes. “You need to listen to me, okay? I know you see yourself as some monster, something to be feared and hated, but no one sees you that way but you. Wanda has been inside your head Nat,” I wince, “No stop. She has seen the worst of what you have done, everything that has been blocked out, and she doesn’t fear you, she doesn’t love you any less.”<br/>
            “Her eyes glowed red when I tried to check her leg at the compound.”<br/>
            “She is jumpy,” and he adds gently, “from what you told me, she has been since she was tortured in Brazil last year,”<br/>
            “How can she still love me if she knows what I have done?”<br/>
            “Because she knows you, like how I know you. Your soul is good. Do you remember when I found you in Miami?”<br/>
            “Of course,” I think of the maid.<br/>
            “You said the reason you agreed to come with me is because I was the first person that saw your weakness as a strength. You told me that your greatest weakness was mercy. They couldn’t get rid of it, no matter how much they played with your head or put in blocks or beat you. Natasha, you are so kind and good. Your life is going to be so long, and it is a long time to view yourself as something you’re not,” He pauses, and I see a look in his eyes.<br/>
            “You’re hiding something,”<br/>
            “No, I’m just tired,”<br/>
            “Spit it out, Barton,” his eyes move towards the exit. “No, you aren’t getting out of this, what is it? Is it something I did?”<br/>
            “No, you didn’t do anything. Do you ever think about how we used to look pretty close to the same age?”<br/>
            “I try not to,” I frown. When we first met, he only looked a few years older. Now, when people see us on the street, we could pass for father and daughter. “Why are you being so sentimental about the good old days?”<br/>
            He looks over at Wanda and switches to signing. “A few months ago, when Wanda had her leg amputated, Bruce ran some blood samples.” My heart stops.<br/>
            “Is she sick?” I sign back. She can’t be sick; they wouldn’t have waited this long to say something.<br/>
            “He compared the blood to yours and Steve’s. He just finished analyzing the results when your lungs gave out. It wasn’t a good time to tell you, or her,”<br/>
            “Spit it out, Clint.”<br/>
            “Her sample is very similar to you and Cap.”<br/>
            “Yes, she was tested on, just like us.” I glance warily at Clint. I don’t want him to say it. It can’t be true. She underwent different testing.<br/>
            “Well, when you saw Bucky, he aged what, like fifteen years?” I nod slowly, “Since 1940,” he continues, “And we can assume Steve is going to age at the same rate now that he is out of the ice.”<br/>
            “Clint,”<br/>
            “Nat, Wanda turns eighteen in six months,”<br/>
            “We have no way of knowing that is applies to her, she was tested differently, had a much different reaction than me or Steve.”<br/>
            “Bruce said once she turns eighteen, he can test it. Run a simulation,”<br/>
             “I don’t want to know.”<br/>
            “She’ll be eighteen, it will be up to her.”<br/>
            “Then I won’t tell her it’s a possibility.”<br/>
            “Natasha,”<br/>
            “I want her to feel somewhat normal, okay? Just for a little while longer. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered the possibility. And some parts of me selfishly hope it’s true.”<br/>
            “You won’t be alone, neither of you will be alone.” He looks down at my top, “You need to change your shirt,” I glance at it and realize it is covered in sweat and vomit. Clint takes off his sweatshirt and hands it to me. I put my ruined shirt in the trash and accept it gratefully. “I’m going to go check on Laura and the kids,” he heads out into the hall and towards the waiting room.<br/>
            “Nat?” I look over at Wanda.<br/>
            “Hey, how are you feeling?”<br/>
            “Tired,” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes. “How bad is it?”<br/>
            “You fractured your leg; it isn’t too bad. You don’t need surgery,” I can tell that is the farthest thing from her mind, “You have to stay off it for six to eight weeks. No leg. No crutches outside of the house,” Wanda’s lips draw into a hard line. “I am sorry, doctor’s orders, not mine.”</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
            Happy pulls up to the front of our building. We had landed the quinjet at the Tower, Clint stayed back at the farm. Wanda has been dour since she woke up, even with meds. She will be completely murderous without them.<br/>
            “Thank you, Happy.” I climb out of the car and help Wanda into her wheelchair, the painkillers making her movements uncoordinated and clumsy. We arrive on our floor and I unlock the door. “Let’s get you in bed, okay?”<br/>
            “Fine,” she murmurs, closing her eyes. I prop her leg up under a pillow as she lies down. “I’m not in that dark place,” she says sleepily, “I know you don’t remember, but you asked me to tell you if things got bad again.” She falls asleep before I can reply.<br/>
            I head out into the living room and see a bow of stale popcorn on the couch. I empty out the fridge of the leftover Chinese food and head into the library. There is a crack in the drywall. I think of the bruise that had been on my back when I woke up. My laptop is open on my desk. My eyes catch on a stack of papers. There are a few drops of blood on them, I had been coughing as I filled them out. That night was so horrible. I had bought us both new clothes and felt a rush of hope when she came out in the new red suede sneakers. However, the anxiety we both felt quickly sullied the mood. We fought about school, and I became too nervous to bring up the adoption papers that sat in my purse. Then the paparazzi caused even more problems. Finally, as we got home, I followed her to her room, ready to present the papers, only for her to tell me I was not her family. But, two days ago, she said otherwise. Two days ago, she called me mom. Before I can head over to my desk and grab the papers, my cell phone rings. Steve.<br/>
            “Hello?”<br/>
            “Romanoff,” Oh. It was that kind of call.<br/>
            “I’m not cleared for field work,” I think of Wanda alone in her room, in pain.<br/>
            “We need you, Bruce agreed to expedite your clearance. Pepper is already in New York; she’ll be at your apartment in ten minutes.” I change into my tactical suit and pull a sweatshirt over it.<br/>
            I open the door to Wanda’s bedroom and lie down next to her. She turns her head to look at me with a tired smile.<br/>
            “Hi,”<br/>
            “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I am tempted to tell her that I am leaving, but she will only argue and make it harder for the both of us.<br/>
            “It’s okay,” she presses her face into my shoulder and quickly falls back asleep. I lay that way until there is a knock at the front door.<br/>
            “Thank you, Pepper,” I smile at my friend. “We owe you,”<br/>
            “Yes, you do,” she laughs. “It’s fine, I was here wedding planning anyways,” I forgot her and Tony got engaged at Christmas.<br/>
             “When is the wedding?”<br/>
             “September,” she nudges me towards the door, “You should get going, Steve sounded frantic.”</p><p><br/>
            I pull up in my Porsche to Stark Tower.<br/>
            “Just like old times,” I look at the team, sans Clint and Wanda, gathered on the couch. Steve frowns.<br/>
             “Sorry to pull you, Nat.”<br/>
            “What could it possibly be that you got Bruce to release me from leave early?” I sit down next to them.<br/>
            “We found another shipment of those weapons. After this, there will only be one left.”<br/>
             “It’s in Italy, Cosa Nostra,” Tony explains. I think of Wanda, in pain at home. Why did they pull me? This may be the first time I don’t want to be on a mission. None of them look me in the eye.<br/>
            “You know, I have only ever received these orders from SHEILD, not you guys.” I feel a little betrayed, hurt. “Why can’t you just bust in and steal them yourself?”<br/>
            “We don’t know the location of the warehouse, but our sources tell us it is on a leader’s laptop. He is visiting Rome from Sicily, so we can assume the weapons are nearby.”<br/>
            “So I’m posing as an escort?” I frown.<br/>
            “He has a thing for redheads.” We leave the tower in the quinjet and arrive in Rome a few hours later.<br/>
            “Nat, we are really sorry about this,”<br/>
            “Whatever, we have to do what we have to do.” I change into the black slip and heels. “You guys do realize though, that five days ago I was completely unhinged, correct?” I clasp on the jewelry and grab the purse, they say nothing. “Just checking,”<br/>
            I walk to the front desk and smile at the concierge. He looks at me suspiciously. In perfect Italian, I tell him I am here to visit Marco. After a few minutes on the phone, I am waved up to the sixth floor. A guard accompanies me on the elevator. He searches through my purse, taking the cell phone. I am flying blind; I don’t even have coms. The only other items in there are makeup and a set of fake house keys. We step off the elevator and a new set of guards pat me down, spending a little too long. I bite my tongue. Finally, the door to the hotel room is unlocked.<br/>
            “Did Andrea send you?” A man nearing sixty grins, asking in Italian. He is missing one of his front teeth. I flash a sultry smile in return, neither confirming no denying. The room is small, smaller than what I would expect from someone so high up in the crime syndicate. He must not be staying long, which means the weapons aren’t either. I spot his computer on a desk but make no move to grab it. Not when there are so many guards in the room. I also have to play nice and not cause a scene, nothing that would make them move the weapons. I will have to wait until he falls asleep. He pours me a glass of wine and waits for me to take a sip. I does as he asks. It is an expensive bottle; he is showing off; that he can waste pricey wine on a prostitute. I place the now empty glass to the side. He drugged my drink, but it barely has an effect on me, more like I had two glasses of wine instead of one.<br/>
            He steps forward and I expect him to begin to tear off the dress. Instead, he shoves me towards the bed, but his aim is off. I am caught off guard and so surprised that I fall backward. I twist at the last second and try to catch myself, but my forehead bounces off the marble nightstand. I can feel the skin split, but he doesn’t seem to notice, pulling me off the floor and onto the bed. This is a control thing for him, a power trip. He feels like he lacks control in his own life. I detach myself from the situation and let him live out this fantasy, anything to end it quicker. I stand up afterwards, my head spinning. He seems surprised I can walk. I am surprised I am awake. I think I have a serious concussion. I mumble something about needing to use the bathroom and stumble in. I look in the mirror and see that my face is covered in blood. The wound stretches across my forehead, I wonder vaguely if I cracked my skull.<br/>
            I leave the bathroom and am relieved to find that he has fallen asleep. I take the lipstick out of my purse and uncap it. The USB drive blinks back at me. After three tries, I manage to put it into a port. Thankfully, the tech is smart enough to work for itself, I can’t even read the keyboard. Two minutes. It will take two minutes for the information to download. I use this time to try and clean some of the blood off my face. I didn’t lose consciousness; better than the time I woke up in my own grave. This is only my second honeypot since then. The other was just after my birthday. My two minutes are up. My vision doubles, but I grab the flash drive and shove it into my purse.<br/>
             Out in the hall, the guards are surprised to see me. I am guessing normally girls stay the night, probably against their will. None of them move to stop me. Perhaps the fact that I am covered in blood deters them. I spot Steve in the hotel lobby, sitting at the bar. His face pales when he sees me. I must be in worse shape than I think. I look down and see I am bleeding between my legs too. People are staring. I stagger towards the bar and hand him the tube of lipstick.<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “I’m okay,” I slur.<br/>
            “You are not okay, Jesus Christ,” he pockets the flash drive and look around the bar. We are garnering way too much attention. There should have been a back up plan in case I looked like a corpse. “Bruce, we’re going to need medical on the jet, ASAP,” he turns to me, “Can you walk?”<br/>
             “Of course,” I concentrate on the ground in front of me, but my concussion is winning. Steve grabs my arm, keeping me upright. Eventually, he picks me up. I don’t think we are even out of the hotel lobby.<br/>
            We arrive on the quinjet and everyone is quiet. Steve puts me behind a curtain on a gurney. Bruce sets to work, stitching up my forehead.<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “I’m fine,” I murmur, keeping my eyes close, “The files are on the drive, right?”<br/>
             “Yes,” he replies.<br/>
            “Then I’m fine,”<br/>
            “I shouldn’t have cleared you, I’m sorry.”<br/>
             “I probably would have forced myself on the mission anyways,” I lie. I wouldn’t have. For the first time ever, I would have happily sat out and made sure Wanda was comfortable. The only thing more important than the mission.<br/>
            “Natasha,” I blink.<br/>
            “Sorry, I missed what you just said,”<br/>
            “I said I’m done,” I sit up and feel a sharp pain between my legs. There are bruises forming between my thighs. A quick glance in the mirror shows two hand shaped bruises on my neck as well. “Here,” he hands me two of the painkillers designed for Steve. I am normally too proud to take them. “You didn’t crack your skull,” I think of Clint telling me I have a thick skull a few days ago and snort.<br/>
            “Hard head, I guess.”<br/>
            “How’s everything going in here?” Steve whispers on the other side of the curtain.<br/>
            “I am okay,” my thoughts have begun to clear. I try to stand up but Bruce forces me back down. “We have to go recover the weapons,” Steve steps behind the curtain.<br/>
            “Bruce, can I have a minute with Nat?”<br/>
            “Of course,” he head up from to be with Sam, Vision, and Tony.<br/>
            “Have you heard from Pepper? Is Wanda okay?”<br/>
           “She’s good, Pepper said she’s not in any pain. She asked for you,” I feel guilty, I shouldn’t have left her. “Natasha, even if Bruce clears you, I am not letting you out in the field to recover the weapons.”<br/>
            “That’s bullshit,” I glare at him, “I am fine. I can still kick your ass.”<br/>
            “Does this happen every time?” Steve asks. He seems scared to hear the answer.<br/>
             “Usually, this one was a little worse. It is fine, it is part of my job,”<br/>
            “I promise to never send you on one of these again,”<br/>
            “You can’t promise that.” I close my eyes; I need to sleep. “I was made for this, designed to be this weapon,”  <br/>
            “You aren’t a weapon, Natasha.”<br/>
            “Don’t tell me that you will never do it again. It isn’t a promise you can keep. Now that you know how effective it is, how good I am at this part of my job, it’s impossible not to send me back out. Fury’s tried, sometimes the hard way to do things is the only way. I have skills that most don't have, it would be stupid not to use them.”<br/>
            “The Avengers are different,”<br/>
            “A gun is a gun no matter where you store it, Steve. No matter what team I'm on, its part of what I do.” <br/>
            "Natasha,"<br/>
            "If you aren't going to let me back in the field, I am going to sleep." I look up at him. I turn away from him and close my eyes. I should be upset. That is the normal response to this. Instead, when I think off what has occurred over the last few hours, I feel blank, nothing. Another sign that Clint is wrong. He said my soul is kind and good. I question if I even have one.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So close to seeing those papers and Wanda's signature... so close! And poor Wanda! And poor Nat! Our girls!!! Next chapter will be out either Tuesday or Wednesday! Thank you all for following along and cannot wait to hear what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warning that this chapter is pretty dark! Proceed with caution :)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! Please enjoy this next chapter! It is really dark but explains a lot of what has been going on in both Lost and Welcome Home! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!<br/>Lastly, if you missed my announcement on Welcome Home, parts 4 and 5 of the series have been planned out and will be starting soon, stay tuned!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, the quinjet lands back at Stark Tower. The weapons recovery had been successful. This shipment included the weapons that had hurt Wanda. After dropping off Tony, Vision, and I, the quinjet takes off again, heading back to the compound upstate. I stand in the powder room off the kitchen staring in the mirror. Bruce had to use stitches, butterfly bandages wouldn’t hold, neither would glue. A quick glance at my neck shows deep purple bruises. I zip up my catsuit, somewhat concealing the mess. I head back into the kitchen where Tony and Vision are talking.<br/>            “Hey, Red, you haven’t said anything since yesterday. Are the vocal cords working okay?” Tony’s eyes drift to the bruises on my neck. I grab my car keys out of the catch all.<br/>            “They are working fine.” I reply, standing stiffly.<br/>            “Where are you going? Do you need a ride?” I step into the elevator and press the button for the garage. My head is pounding. I climb into my car and speed out of the garage. I need to go home.<br/>            I think, fleetingly, as I pull up to the apartment building that I should not have been driving with this concussion. Anything happening to this car would be heartbreaking. I try not to think about what happened to my original Spyder. I hand the car keys to the valet and stand in the elevator. The staff is amazingly skilled at not reacting to whatever injury Wanda and I come in with. Their ability to hide reactions could even rival mine. I stand outside the door to the apartment, resting my head on the frame for a moment before unlocking it and stepping inside. I resist the urge to turn around. Clint is sitting on the couch, Pepper no where in sight.<br/>            “Why are you here, Clint?” he turns away from the TV with a nervous smile, one that disappears upon looking at me.<br/>            “Jesus, Nat.” he jumps off the sofa.<br/>            “I’m fine,” I step around him, heading towards the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”<br/>            “Wanda texted me that you had a mission. Then yesterday I got multiple frantic calls from the quinjet. Even Tony just sent me a text,” I shrug, taking out the ingredients for a sandwich. I place the bread on the counter and look for the jelly.<br/>            “Has Wanda had lunch?”<br/>            “Natasha,”<br/>            “Do you want a sandwich too?”<br/>            “Just stop for a second. Steve told me what happened, and I know how hard it is for you after these mission,”<br/>            “I am fine,” I turn around and slam the jar of jelly so hard on the counter that it shatters. I look down at my hand. I can’t tell what is strawberry jelly and what is blood. Without a word, he grabs the first aid kit from under the sink and cleans the wound, pulling out shards of glass.<br/>            “What happened?” he asks gently, wrapping gauze around my hand.<br/>             “I went on a mission; it was a success. Nothing else matters.”<br/>            “This is not what the end of a successful mission looks like.”<br/>            “I am okay,” I lie. On these missions, I can detach completely. Like when you are driving on a familiar road and shift into autopilot, your brain performing actions without consciously thinking. This detachment was drilled into me the final two years of training. It is a job, nothing more. It is like killing or making a sandwich. It is wrong, inhuman.<br/>            “Nat, you’re shaking. Let’s go to your bedroom, you should lie down.” I strip out of my catsuit to change into pajamas. Clint gasps quietly behind me. Modesty is not a trait I have ever had, but now looking down at my body, I feel a twinge of shame. It isn’t like this is Clint’s first time seeing me naked, not even close. But the marks tell I story I don’t want to share. I hurriedly put on the shorts and t-shirt. “Those bruises,”<br/>             “Will fade,” I reply sharply.<br/>            “You shouldn’t have gone,”<br/>            “They needed me,”<br/>            “You could have said no. I have told you that since day one.”<br/>            “I can’t.” I look him in the eyes. I wanted to say no to this mission. I had truly wanted to, but I couldn’t do it. It was a war within me. It is just another piece of me that is broken, a piece of freewill that doesn’t seem to exist. A weapon can’t choose when it is used.<br/>            “Nat?” Wanda appears in the doorway on crutches.<br/>             “You shouldn’t be using those,” I eye them warily, thinking of her fall.<br/>            “Oh my God,” she hobbles forward. I feel cornered. Clint holds Wanda back. “What happened? What kind of mission was this?” I think of her initial shock at finding out what I was trained to do, that day of Tony’s fundraiser for Sokovia. Then there was Switzerland.<br/>            “It was just a normal mission, I am fine. Just some bruising.” Her eyes drift to my legs, and I regret putting on shorts.<br/>            “Wanda, I think you should go back to your room,” Clint says quietly, his voice steady despite his shaking hands. She doesn’t budge. “Wanda,” he tries again. Her eyes finally move away from the bruising on my inner thighs and she flees the room. “Please tell me what happened,” he tries again. I sit down on the bed.<br/>            “I go on these missions all the time, Clint.” I don’t have freewill.<br/>            “No, you <em>used</em> to,” he corrects, “We cut them down to only a few a year after,”<br/>            “Don’t mention it,” I dig my nails into my palms. He stops himself, changing directions.<br/>            “You hate these missions, Nat.”<br/>            “They are necessary.” I can’t choose.<br/>            “They put you in the wrong frame of mind,” he says carefully, diplomatically. “You’ve already been in such a bad place,” he looks at me fearfully and down at the porcelain skin of my arms. No scars remain.<br/>            “Clint, please stop. I just want to sleep.” I suddenly feel exhausted.<br/>            “Laura and I were thinking of taking the kids on vacation, maybe you and Wanda can come? She’ll be out of the cast in two weeks, I know she’ll still be confined to her chair, but it could be fun. It will be like the time we went to the ski chalet right before Lila was born.”<br/>            “Whatever Wanda wants to do,”<br/>            “Do you want me to stay?”<br/>            “Do what you want,” I close my eyes.</p><p>I gasp for air and try to sit up, but something is pinning me down. I thrash trying to get away, but the grip tightens.<br/>            “Natasha, calm down. It is me, you’re okay,” My blind panic subsides. Clint’s grip lessens. “You were having a nightmare.” I look around, we are in my bedroom. My gasps for air come in gulps, and my throat is tight like I am trying not to cry. I don’t even remember what the nightmare was. “Are you ready to talk, Tash?”<br/>            “No,” I stand up from the bed and I must have lost my balance because he is holding my elbow with a vice-like grip. “I want coffee,” I pull away from his hold and leave my bedroom. The hardwood floor is cold against my bare feet. The Keurig whirrs and the aroma of fresh coffee fills the air. I settle into the corner of the couch with my cup of coffee. “Where is Wanda?” I ask Clint as he settles down beside me.<br/>            “Fast asleep, its six o’clock in the morning.” I nod, holding the mug tighter. “We need to talk about this.”<br/>            “Why are you forcing me to hash this out? Can’t you just let me deal with it like I normally do?”<br/>            “Going on a self-destructive bender for a week where the world’s criminals mysteriously disappear? Extremely effective crime fighting, but I don’t think so.” Clint replies dryly. “Talking will make things better, clearer,” His eyes drift to my thighs where the bruises are already becoming yellow and green. I pull the blanket off the back of the couch, covering them. “It’s normal to feel upset and confused after what you went through,” he begins. It is like he is reading out of a pamphlet from the hospital.<br/>            “You don’t understand a damn thing about what is going through my mind, you never have.” Rather than dropping the topic, like I thought my cruel words would make him do, he pushes harder.<br/>            “Then explain it to me,” he pleads, “I’m really trying Nat. The only way I can help you is if you let me know what is going on.” I feel my jaw tighten, “It is perfectly normal,”<br/>            “No. It is not, that is the problem.” I turn to the window, where the sun has just begun to peak over the horizon. “I feel nothing when I do these missions. I am completely detached, unemotional, it is exactly how I was trained.” I pause but Clint says nothing, waiting for me to continue. I look back at him, but he doesn’t look horrified. He just looks concerned. “After Chantilly, it isn’t that I started feeling. It is when I noticed something was wrong with me. That it isn’t normal to react this way. This isn’t how a person is supposed to react. In the back of my mind there is this voice chanting that I am not human and that this is proof. The worst part is that it is my own voice, it is a part of me admitting something that the rest doesn’t have the courage to. It disgusts me that I am this way, no matter how hard I try to be different.” I take a sip of my coffee, giving myself a moment to gather a semblance of composure. “These missions are a reminder that my humanity is just an illusion. My acting has become so good I’ve fooled myself.”<br/>            “Nat,”<br/>            “You know, for the first time ever I wanted to say no to a mission. I didn’t even know I was able to think that. I didn’t think my programming would let me.” The bitter coffee coats my tongue. “But I couldn’t physically say no. It was like I was at war with myself. I don’t have the freedom of choice. How much of what I do is a choice and how much is what they made me to be?”<br/>            “You showed you have free will the moment you agreed to come with me,” he scooches closer on the couch and takes my now empty mug of coffee, placing it on the end table.<br/>            “I had already completed the mission,” I point out. An awful idea occurs to me, “What if that is what they wanted me to do? What if this is some long elaborate mission that I am not aware of?” I think of my revelation last night. A weapon can’t choose when it is fire. Black spots begin to float at the edge of my vision.<br/>             “Natasha, you need to breathe, come on.” He snaps his fingers in front of my eyes. I blink back into focus, air filling my lungs.<br/>            “I think I am going to go lie down.” I stand up from the couch, numb. Clint was right. Talking did make everything much clearer.<br/> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay I know that was super dark and depressing, but i promise things will get better soon! Thank you all for following along and encouraging this story! We are moving towards the plot of part 4, as Lost ends in August 2017 and we are in May 2017 right now. Thank you for your amazing comments as well, the story wouldn't have even come close where it is now without them!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*******Trigger warning for minor accidental self harm*********</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone!! Chapter 20!!! Thank you all for your lovely comments on the previous chapter :) This chapter is really long so I hope that makes up for the delayed posting! As always feedback is always welcome and appreciated!<br/>Also can't believe this fic has hit 2k hits as well! I am so grateful to everyone following along!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            It has been four days and I haven’t seen Natasha since her initial arrival. I can hear her pacing back and forth in her room. There is one loose board in her room that creaks each time she steps on it. I knock on the door. Clint opens and shuts it quickly, sliding out of the room.<br/>
            “What’s up?”<br/>
            “She has been pacing for two hours,” I point out.<br/>
            “I know,”<br/>
             “Can I come in? See her?”<br/>
            “Why don’t you go over to Peter’s? Or visit Tony at the tower?” Clint asks.<br/>
             “They are in California at a tech conference, why can’t I come in?” I cross my arms.<br/>
            “You just can’t okay?”<br/>
             “I’ve dealt with this before, Clint. I know she told you about Switzerland.”<br/>
            “This is different, okay?”<br/>
            “No. I want to see her,” I can hear the whine creeping into my voice. I know I am being childish, but I don’t care. I miss her. I’m lonely.<br/>
            “Maybe later, okay? Don’t you have finals to study for? Those are in three weeks, right?”<br/>
            “Yes,” I admit reluctantly. He nods to me and goes back into the room. The pacing didn’t pause once during our conversation.<br/>
            I find her in the gym later on. She is in the middle of her go-to stress reliever, throwing knives.<br/>
            “Natasha?” she spins around, ready to throw the knife, pausing when she sees me. The knife clatters to the ground. “Sorry, there is no red light for me to flick in here,” I roll forward, “This building should have come with a gun range,” There is not even a hint of a smile. “Can I get you anything?”<br/>
            “Leave,” she whispers.<br/>
            “What?”<br/>
            “I said leave.” She doesn’t look at me and goes to gather the knives that are embedded in the wall across the room. I push down my hurt feelings and flee the room.<br/>
            Over the next week, conditions don’t improve. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in days, the pain meds trapping me in nightmares. And Natasha is noticeably absent in the happenings of the house. Clint comes out to eat meals with me before heading right back into her room. Indiscernible arguments erupt from the walls of her bedroom. I can’t hear what her and Clint are yelling about, but I can tell neither are winning. Finally, on the sixth day since I ran into her in the gym, there is a change in routine.<br/>
            The constant arguing turns into a screaming match. Words leak out of the room, including my name. The true context of the argument isn’t revealed. Though I know it has something to do with the honeypot mission. The door to the apartment slams shut. I’m scared to know who left. Either way, the implications aren’t good.<br/>
             Around dinner time, I leave my room. If I study for finals for another minute, I think my brain may explode, and I haven’t been able to truly focus since someone bolted. The library door is open, but Natasha hasn’t gone in since she came home. It is wrong, her favorite room going untouched. I knock on her bedroom door. I hope it was Clint who ran out to cool off, that Nat hasn’t fled. The possibility of her not coming back is too real.<br/>
             Natasha opens the door. She looks worse than she did days ago, despite the fact that the bruising is gone. Her hair is dull and frizzy. She looks like she is in pain despite the lack of injuries.<br/>
            “Hi,” I smile, shifting on my crutches. I wait for her to comment that I should be in my chair. She doesn’t  <br/>
            “Hi,” she replies.<br/>
            “I was going to order dinner. What do you want?”<br/>
            “I’m not hungry,” she goes to close the door.<br/>
            “Where’s Clint?” she sighs and opens the door wider.<br/>
            “He went home.”<br/>
            “Really?” I can’t hide my shock. “I can’t believe he left,” Natasha lies down on her bed.<br/>
            “I told him to. He’ll be back in two days.” She seems small, lying in the king-sized bed. I go to the other side of the bed and lie down facing her.<br/>
            “How did you get Clint to leave?”<br/>
            “I convinced him I wasn’t a flight risk,” she replies dully. “I am being selfish; I can’t help it.”<br/>
            “What?”<br/>
             “Me, staying here. It is selfish.” She hugs her arms to her chest.<br/>
            “That doesn’t make any sense.” My brows knit together.<br/>
            “I can’t leave,”<br/>
            “That’s good,” I honestly can’t see where her train of thought is leading. “I don’t want you to,” I try carefully.<br/>
            “I shouldn’t be here,”<br/>
             “Nat, this is your home. There’s no where else you should be,” She smiles wistfully, her lips tight. “I’ve missed you,”<br/>
            “Let’s order dinner,”<br/>
            “Okay, what do you want?” I ask, surprised by the sudden change of heart.<br/>
            “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she replies. I grin and leave the room to order dinner. However, she doesn’t come out when it arrives, and her bedroom door is locked when I try to grab her. The only sign she is still here is the sound of her pacing back and forth.</p><p>            Clint arrives back in New York just in time to take me to get my cast removed. It is liberating, even if I am not out of the chair yet. Showering will be so much easier.<br/>
            “She’s going to be there when we get back,” I tell him as he drives the SUV through the streets. He is driving faster and more reckless than he should be, especially in the city. “She told me she wouldn’t leave.” But that had been two days ago, and since then her bedroom door has remained locked.<br/>
            “Do you know if she’s packed for the trip?” I shrug, I had only just packed last night. “We’re going to spend two nights at the house and then head to the island,”<br/>
            “I know, we’ve gone over the plan at least a dozen times,” I nudge him gently, “It is going to be fine.”<br/>
            “I am supposed to be the one reassuring you,” he frowns.<br/>
            “You’re allowed to be nervous, she’s your best friend.”<br/>
            “She’s your mom,” he replies sharply. The statement hangs in the air of the car, permeating every inch. “Wanda,”<br/>
            “I don’t want to talk anymore,” I murmur, thinking of the untouched adoption papers. She hasn’t brought them up. I wonder if she changed her mind. We arrive back at the apartment and find Natasha sitting in the living room. She has her duffel bag next to her. There is no way there are enough clothes to last her a week in there. Neither of us say anything about the bag.<br/>
            “Are you ready to go?” Clint asks her. She nods blankly, staring out the window. “Okay, I’ll grab Wanda’s suitcase and we can hit the road.”<br/>
            We take Tony’s private plane, as Steve and Sam had commandeered the quinjet for a mission. Clint seems delighted by the opportunity, gushing over the controls.<br/>
            “You are like a teenage girl,” I tease. “It was nice of Tony to let us borrow his plane.”<br/>
             “He feels bad for the role he played in all this,” Clint whispers. “And neither of us think having Natasha in an enclosed place with the public is a good idea right now.” However, a glance at Natasha shows a woman who doesn’t look like she could be a threat to anyone. She is hidden in one of Steve’s sweatshirts and it pools around her. She holds a book, turning the pages every minute or so, but it is obvious she isn’t reading.<br/>
            “Do you want me to copilot?” I offer.<br/>
            “Nah, I’m good. You go sit with Nat. We should be there in three hours.” I sit across from Natasha. The only indication she noticed is her hand stilling as she turns the page, before settling back into the robotic routine. I work on my own book, Natasha’s copy of <em>Art of War</em> in Italian.<br/>
            The plane makes an easy landing on the farm. I can see the kids racing towards the plane, excited for their father to be home again. Laura walks behind them with Nate. As soon as the door opens, Lila flies up the steps and jumps into Natasha’s lap. Clint winces and we both watch with bated breaths for Natasha’s reaction.<br/>
            “Hi Lila-bear,” Natasha breathes, brushing the girl’s hair away from her face.<br/>
            “Hi Auntie Nat!” Natasha gently picks Lila up off her lap and stands up. Lila seems to sense that something is wrong and looks to me. “Does your leg still hurt? Is that why Auntie Nat is upset?”<br/>
            “Something like that,” I nod, “You know what would be a big help?”<br/>
            “What?” the girl asks, her eyes growing big.<br/>
            “Do you think you’re strong enough to push my wheelchair?”<br/>
            “Of course!” She puffs up her chest, standing up straighter. Gripping the railing, I am able to get down the stairs on my own, with an incredibly nervous Clint standing behind me. It takes nearly ten minutes, and I collapse gratefully into the chair. I push my chair along, with Lila ‘helping’. A ramp has been laid across the front steps and my chest flushes in embarrassment.<br/>
            “Dinner should be ready soon, I made tacos, so I hope everyone is hungry,” Laura smiles. Natasha moves towards the stairs but a glare from Clint stops her and instead she sits down on the couch. I join Laura in the kitchen and help her with the last of the preparations. After about twenty minutes, Cooper joins us. He sits down at the dining table, his lips pinched.<br/>
            “What’s wrong?”<br/>
            “She is acting like she did after the fire,”<br/>
            “Cooper Barton!” Laura drops her knife, turning to glare at her son. Fire? The only one I know of that involved Natasha was the children's hospital. Cooper wasn't even alive yet. No one has ever mentioned any other. “Go help set the table outside,” I had never seen Laura look so scared or sound so stern. I go to ask what the fire was, but Laura’s tearful eyes stops the question from exiting my lips. As soon as dinner is over, Natasha flees upstairs. After an hour or so, the kids head upstairs as well to get ready for bed.<br/>
            “Wanda, will you read me a bedtime story?” Lila looks up at me, her eyes shining.<br/>
            “I would be happy to, you head up and pick out a book.” Clint heads upstairs to help with the bedtime routine while Laura and I finish cleaning up after the mess DIY Sundaes made in the kitchen.<br/>
            “Wanda!” a little voice calls out from upstairs, “I picked out a book!” Laura smirks.<br/>
            “I think you might have a new little shadow for this trip,” It warms my heart that this little girl wants to be around me. I head towards the stairs and stand up, gripping the bottom landing. My vision tunnels as I look up at the steep and winding antique stairs.<br/>
            “Wanda, honey, its okay.” I look down and see I have been gripping the railing so tight that my nails have dug into the wood. “Sit down, take deep breaths.” She helps me back into my chair, “It’s okay. You don’t have to go up. You can stay down here.” I nod, grateful she didn’t offer to have Clint carry me up. I think it would have pushed me over the edge. “How about I make you some chamomile tea, okay?” I let out another shaky breath and realize I am crying. Laura pulls out her phone, sending a quick text before pushing me into the kitchen. She boils a kettle on the stove and begins to make the tea. “Honey?”<br/>
            “Yes please,” I take the steaming mug, breathing in the fragrant tea.<br/>
            “There’s a pullout couch in the sunroom, you can sleep in there. How does that sound?”<br/>
            “Good, thank you.”<br/>
            “How are you doing? This is a lot for anyone to go through, and people have been asking a lot of you.” <br/>
            “I’m fine. I will be fine,” <br/>
            “You’ve been talking to Sam, right?”<br/>
            “Yes, mostly over FaceTime.” I squirm, feeling uncomfortable discussing therapy.<br/>
            “Natasha will be okay.” Laura squeezes my hand, “This is one of the better reactions I have seen from her after these missions.”<br/>
            “So, you knew? When I texted you about Switzerland?”<br/>
            “Yes, four different crime syndicate leaders were found dead on her route from Geneva to the farm.”<br/>
            “I don’t like that she does these,”<br/>
            “No one does. It is horrible. But we can’t make decisions for her. Trust me, Clint and I have tried. She just pushes back twice as hard.” Laura sighs. “She’s been through more than any of us could imagine, and I wish she would just let herself pause and take a breath.” She looks at me knowingly, “I think you could use the same advice.” I open my mouth to argue, but promptly shut it when she raises her eyebrows. “You two are so much alike, it is amazing.” Laura takes my now empty mug of tea. “Get ready for bed, Lila wants to go shopping tomorrow and that is an affair that requires all the energy you can muster.”<br/>
            I climb onto the pullout couch’s mattress, which is more comfortable than I expected. It is a recent purchase, Laura explained, as they always seem to have more company than beds. The shades in the room are drawn and she shuts off the light.<br/>
            I wake up sweating. I can feel my face pressed up against the cement floor once more, surrounded by dried blood, both mine and that of previous occupants of the pen. Someone is rubbing my back; it must be Laura. The room is pitch black, the only light being from the TV box, showing the time as 2:13.<br/>
            When I wake up again, Natasha is sleeping next to me. I try not to move, scared to wake her. Clint has been sleeping on an air mattress in her room at the apartment. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing it here as well. I think of his panic that night when he found her in my room. Carefully, I reach for my phone and shoot him a text. I roll back over to face her and wince as pain travels up my hip. But Natasha looks to be in more pain than me. Her face is drawn. Even in her sleep, she looks distressed. The pain in my leg begins to become unbearable and I can’t put off take the pain meds any longer. The door to the sunroom opens.<br/>
            “Pancakes or waffles?” Clint signs after a look at the sleeping Natasha.<br/>
            “Pancakes,” I sign back. He nods and heads back to the kitchen. I have to get up. I grip the nightstand and bed, pulling myself up. I carefully land in my wheelchair. I have become good at this. It’s not a skill I ever wanted to develop. Natasha shifts in her sleep, her arm landing where I was a moment before. She shoots up, instantly awake and panicked.<br/>
            “Wanda?”<br/>
            “Nat, it’s okay. I’m right here,” she visibly relaxes. “Clint’s making breakfast,” I add as I reach for the orange bottle holding my meds. I take them with a long sip of water. It will take at least ten minutes for the pills to kick in.<br/>
            I roll up to the dining table just as Clint places the first round on pancakes down. He beams when he sees Natasha cautiously coming in behind me. The kids are nowhere to be seen.<br/>
            “You want pancakes? I can make waffles, or French toast if you’d prefer.” She sinks down into a dining chair. Clint delivers two cups of coffee as well.<br/>
            “I’ll just have the coffee. Thank you,” her voice sounds like it is made of glass. She stares at the black coffee, her thoughts somewhere else. There is a thundering on the stairs. Cooper and Lila skid into the kitchen with bright smiles.<br/>
            “We’re going on vacation tomorrow!” Lila cheers, sliding into the seat at the head of the table, right between both me and Natasha. “We are going to have so much fun. And Mom said that you would go shopping with us today,” she looks at me expectantly.<br/>
            “Yes, I will.”<br/>
            “Auntie Nat?” Natasha’s head snaps up from the mug.<br/>
            “Yes Lila-bear?”<br/>
            “Will you come shopping with us today?”<br/>
            “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, darling,” Clint places pancakes in front of his two older children, “Auntie Nat’s not feeling too good, I don’t think she could do it.” A spark of anger flashes in Natasha’s eyes.<br/>
            “I can speak for myself, Clinton.” Instead of being angry, Clint’s eyes glint with amusement. “I would love to go shopping with you today,” she shoots another glare in her best friend’s direction before redirecting her attention to her niece who continues to babble on. I glance at Clint and see him smiling with triumph.<br/>
            After breakfast and showers, there is thankfully a full bath on the first floor, we climb into the Barton’s SUV. I sit the back with Lila who is wearing three pairs of sunglasses and a candy necklace.<br/>
            “Sorry you have to sit in the back, dear,” Laura apologizes.<br/>
            “Better than when we went shopping for Thanksgiving and I was jammed between the two of you,” I laugh and then my thoughts freeze. There was another Thanksgiving, at the tower. I don’t know which one was real. Natasha catches my eye in the rearview mirror and nods imperceptibly. I relax back into the seat.<br/>
            We park the car and I feel a spike of hatred when I see the handicap tag hanging from the mirror. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to cry. I don’t know why it is upsetting me so much. Suddenly, the thought of going shopping in this wheelchair seems like a terrible idea. I want to go back to the farm. But I can’t. It would crush Lila, who is sliding a candy bracelet onto my wrist.<br/>
            “We’re twinning!” she proclaims. I smile and offer for her to climb onto the chair so long as she sits on my good leg. “Wanda, do you have a boyfriend?” Lila asks we enter the mall.<br/>
             “Yes,” I think of Vision, we haven’t seen each other in months, not since I kicked him out of my room at the compound. He reached out multiple times over the first few weeks, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. It just occurred to me that the messages stopped coming. “I think so,”<br/>
            “I have a boyfriend,”<br/>
            “Do you really?” Laura raises her eyebrows as we enter Lord &amp; Taylor.<br/>
            “Yes, his name is Henry, he is in my class. He brought me animal crackers last week.”<br/>
            “Sounds serious,” Natasha jokes. I look over at her in surprise, a smile growing on my face. However, it is like she scolded herself and goes back to flipping through racks of clothes.<br/>
            The shopping trip continues in this fashion- Lila chatting about nothing while darting up and down the aisles, piling clothes onto my lap. Laura apologizes, trying to gather them up.<br/>
            “At least this chair is good for something,” I shrug.<br/>
            We arrive back at the house and Lila puts on a fashion show for Clint while Cooper reads a comic book. It reminds me of my first week with the Avengers, when I did the same.<br/>
            “You are going to be the most stylish girl on the island.”<br/>
            “Aren’t we going to be the <em>only</em> people on the island?” Cooper looks up.<br/>
            “Well she will have me beat, that’s for sure,” I tease.</p><p>            We board the plane the next morning. The older two Barton children run up and down the plane, trying out every seat.<br/>
            “Hey Coop,” Clint calls, “You want to be my copilot?” He lights up, running to be in the cockpit with his father. Nate babbles happily in Laura’s lap while Lila begins tearing through a coloring book. Natasha sits in her seat, staring blankly ahead. Her eyes are unfocused, not completely unlike when she is trapped in a flashback. However, it seems right now that she is trapped in her own thoughts. I am tempted to find out what is going on, but I won’t invade her privacy like that again. Both Lila and Nate fall asleep four hours in. Laura and I start a game of Scrabble.<br/>
            “You are kicking my ass,” Laura groans as I place <em>zephyr </em>on a triple word score tile. “Isn’t this your fourth language?”<br/>
            “Yes,” I grin, “Don’t worry, I am not too great at Italian yet if you want to give that a go,”<br/>
            “Jesus Nat, you have created a language machine,” Laura looks over to Natasha who glances at us and the game.<br/>
            “I only taught her English, Latin, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Italian.”<br/>
            “Next up is French, right?” but Natasha has already gone back to staring out the window. “She seems better than when we arrived, right?” I sign to Laura. She nods.<br/>
            “Yes, she’ll get there, don’t worry,” Laura signs back.</p>
<hr/><p>            The plane lands on a small private island in Hawaii that Clint booked. Cooper has since exited the cockpit and bounces excitedly next to Lila.<br/>
            “Alright, who is ready for a vacation?” Clint stretches, stiff from the eight-hour flight. The kids spring from their seats, making Laura laugh. Through the window, I can see the staff waiting outside. Clint picks up Nate, who gurgles happily, sensing the excitement. “Nat, can you help Wanda?” I glare at him. I can get off the plane on my own. But then I see him staring at Nat, hoping for a reaction. “Nat?” he tries again, resting a hand on her shoulder. She blinks and looks over at me. The fog seems to lift a little. She says something under her breath, her first time speaking in four hours. She stands up from the seat and offers me her arm. We make our way down the plan stairs slowly. At the bottom, my wheelchair is waiting. A modified golf cart of some kind takes us to the villa. Clint has to pull Lila down into her seat multiple times. There are four rows, and I sit in the back with Natasha. I find myself yawning and rest my head on her shoulder. She stiffens, but doesn’t move away, eventually relaxing.<br/>
            The house is something to behold. The six-bedroom house is a single story and stretches across the beach. I wouldn’t be surprised if every room had an ocean view. Bamboo hardwood floors gleam and the kids run around, claiming bedrooms.<br/>
            “This is wonderful, Clint. You did a great job,” Laura kisses her husband. The chef serves us a dinner of ham and pineapple, followed by watching sea turtles hatch. I can feel the painkillers making me drowsy and bow out while everyone else heads down to the beach. I head into my room and can see the flashlights from the Barton’s in the distance. The bed is amazingly comfortable, rivalling the one I have at home. The door creaks open and I lift my head sleepily. Natasha hovers in the doorway.<br/>
            “I brought you an icepack,” she enters the room tentatively, “Your leg seemed swollen after the flight,” I hadn’t heard her say so many words in weeks.<br/>
            “Thank you,” she wraps the ice around my leg. I close my eyes, resting my head on the pillows, “Goodnight, Mom,” I murmur. She stills and my eyes fly open. Natasha is staring at me, and I back at her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have,” I feel my breath quickening. This is one way to push her away, just as she was finally coming back. “Please don’t go.”<br/>
            “I am not deserving of that title,” she says, getting up to leave. With a flick of my wrist, I slam the door to my room shut.<br/>
            “What does that mean?” I sit up, any fatigue I was feeling melting away.<br/>
            “I am a liability, the fact that I even came here, that I haven’t left, it is stupid and selfish and a disregard for your safety and the kids.”<br/>
            “You are going to have to catch me up because I am completely lost. You are not making any sense.”<br/>
            “I am scared, Wanda,” she says finally, her voice once again taking on the fragile state I had heard a few days ago. “What if I hurt you or Lila, Cooper, or Nate? Or Laura and Clint?”<br/>
             “But why would you? I don’t understand.” She looks conflicted, and I so badly just want to read her thoughts, but I force myself to be patient. I can see her working out how to phrase her next statement.<br/>
             “What if I don’t have free will?” Is she talking about fate versus free will? Has all of this been about an existential crisis? “I can’t be your mother, not when I don’t have a say in what I do. That is dangerous, that is a liability. I can’t put you in that kind of danger. What if none of anything I have done for the past ten years has been at my own volition? What if it just another mission? I could be a sleeper agent, they had plenty of them. I don’t know what they have done with my head, there is so much I don’t know. The programming and deprogramming, and the blocks,” she begins to pace.<br/>
            “Natasha, stop.” I beg, “Why didn’t you just ask me?” She pauses.<br/>
            “What?”<br/>
            “I have been inside your head. I am the one who put up all your blocks.”<br/>
            “I wouldn’t ask you to,” I can tell what she is really trying to say. She doesn’t want me thinking about the horrible things she has done. The things I have seen her doing. I inch towards the end of the bed where she is standing, wincing in pain.<br/>
            “Nat, you aren’t a sleeper agent. There is nothing waiting to go off at a certain precise moment,”<br/>
             “Then why can’t a say no?” she gasps, sinking to the floor. Tears stream down her face. “I can’t say no, I want to, but I can’t.” I crawl carefully off the bed and sit next to her. “I don’t want to do it,” she murmurs. I unfurl her fists carefully and see her palms bloody from her nails. My suitcase is next to us and I take out a t-shirt, tearing it in half and wrapping it around her hands. “I couldn’t say no. I tried so hard. But I couldn’t.”<br/>
            “To the mission in Italy?” I confirm.<br/>
            “I didn’t want to leave you,” she shakes her head. “But I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t tell them no. What if that is why I have been doing this for all these years? My brain has just been manipulated to not give me free will, and that I could have this mission deeply imbedded from when I worked for Russia and that,” she beings to spiral again. Her eyes become unfocused. My heart is hammering as I watch her fall apart. “I can’t hurt you, I can’t.” I lean onto her shoulder. Her heart is beating faster than mine.<br/>
            “You will never hurt me,” I state firmly. “There are no blocks or walls that are preventing you from making your own decisions. There are no trigger words waiting to be said. Natasha, you are free from their control.”<br/>
             <em>I’ll never be free,</em> her thought hits me and I curse myself. The pain meds are making me careless.<br/>
            “You have free will,” I turn to look at her.<br/>
            <em>Then what is wrong with me?</em> I wince at mistakenly reading her mind for the second time. She takes it as my leg being in pain.<br/>
            “You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor,” she helps me off the ground and back in bed, wrapping the ice around my leg. Her thought runs through my head, it sounded like the thought of someone who has been beaten and broken too many times. She goes to leave my room.<br/>
            “Nat, please stay.” I ask. “The pain meds, they make the nightmares worse,” I think of my nightmare last night, of being in the back of the van, bleeding, while my head slams into the floor. She hesitates before lying down next to me, rubbing my back. “I love you,” I mumble into my pillow.<br/>
            “I love you too, Little Witch.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Next one will be out soon :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you all love this chapter as much as I do!! Thank you so much for your comments last chapter! I am so happy my stories have reached so many people. And omg I got my first user subscription- flattered beyond belief! As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated.<br/>Please enjoy!!<br/>ALSO THE BLACK WIDOW TRAILER 😍🕷</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            I stretch my back and put my hands above my head. Sitting in the wheelchair for the past few weeks is doing a number on my spine.<br/>
            “Good morning,” I mumble, my voice still thick with sleep. She doesn’t answer. I open my eyes and look over. She is gone. My heart leaps to my throat. She left. I rush into the living area on my crutches, nearly sliding on the polished hardwood.<br/>
            “Woah, kid. Slow down,” Clint steadies me, “Where’s the fire?”<br/>
            “Nat’s gone,” I huff, out of breath. “Do you know where she is?”     <br/>
            “She went for a run,” Clint says carefully, as though confused by my panic.<br/>
            “Why would you let her leave?” I can feel panic building up in my chest, “What if she doesn’t come back?”<br/>
            “She took Nate in the jogger. I think she’s coming back.” He pulls out a dining chair, “Sit. I’ll grab you something to eat, okay?” He places a bowl of fresh cut fruit in front of me. “Lila and Cooper are still asleep, we were out until midnight watching the sea turtles hatch,” Meaning if I have anything I want to talk about, now is the time. I poke my cantaloupe with a fork.<br/>
            “I’m scared she is going to leave me, us.” I worry the napkin on my lap, “What if her fear of hurting us is stronger than her will to stay?”<br/>
            “If she was going to leave, she would have already, not trap herself on an island with all of us.” I nod mutely, nibbling on the fruit. “She isn’t going anywhere, she wouldn’t abandon you, Wanda.” He sits down across from me. “I drizzled honey on it for you, eat up,” I grab a strawberry, taking a bite. The kitchen door to the beach opens. Natasha walks in, sweaty, bouncing Nate on her hip. The toddler giggles with glee and tugs on her ponytail.<br/>
            “Good morning,” Clint smiles at his best friend. He is looking at her with unconcealed hope.<br/>
            “Hi,” Natasha steals his coffee and places Nate in the highchair, then sits down between us.<br/>
            “So, you took Nate for a jog,” he tries.<br/>
            “Laura wasn’t feeling well, and you were in the shower,” she justifies.<br/>
            “You don’t have to explain yourself, Nat,” Natasha sips her commandeered coffee.<br/>
            “This place has a gym, right?” Clint nods, “Great.” Natasha hops up from the dining table and places the empty cup in the dishwasher before heading down the hall to what must be the gym.<br/>
            Natasha remains virtually absent for the next two days. She makes an appearance at breakfast and then isn’t seen again until the next morning. I sit on the beach while the kids learn to surf. They claim that the waves are not nearly as good as mine. I hate myself for feeling bitter, self-pity taking root like a weed. Laura continues to feel ill, leaving Clint to care for Nate, who has taken to chasing lizards. <br/>
            “Wanda!” Lila runs over, still dripping with saltwater, “Do you want to build a sandcastle?” <br/>
            “Sure, that sounds great,” I smile as the little girl carries over her pail and shovel. <br/>
            “You know, one time Auntie Nat and I built a whole kingdom. There were villages and houses, and a farm,” <br/>
            “That’s cool,” I try to imagine what Natasha is doing now, probably holed up in the gym, throwing knives.<br/>
            “Yes, so cool, it was last summer when she visited for her birthday.” The aftermath of that birthday still makes my stomach churn. Lila begins to dig ferociously and then suddenly stops, looking up at me. She quirks her lips into a frown. My facial expression is likely giving my thoughts away. She places a sandy hand on my cheek, “You know, sometimes Auntie Nat gets sad, it doesn’t mean she loves us any less.” I tear up at her words, something that has so clearly been said to her by Laura and Clint many times over. “What if we built the compound?” She asks excitedly. Cooper joins us and soon we have the Avengers’ compound, complete with the lake. <br/>
            “Lunch!” Laura calls. The kids race off, abandoning the creation. I try to pull myself up off the sand, but any pressure I put on my stump causes pain so fierce, my vision goes white.<br/>
            “Want some help?”<br/>
            “No!” I snap, my cheeks flushing. <br/>
            “Wanda, you’re allowed to ask for help,” Clint adds quietly.  <br/>
            “I’m not hungry, I think I am going to lay out for a while longer.” He looks at me doubtfully, “I spend all my time locked away in an apartment. It’s nice to get some sun,” Clint and Nate head inside. I can feel my skin beginning to burn. An hour later, everyone is back outside, running into the water. A sandwich and a bottle of sunscreen is dropped on my towel. Natasha sits down next to me. Her red bikini does nothing to cover the scar on her stomach, and I know the exit wound is much worse. Unlike when we were on the boat that day with Steve, she makes no move to hide it. <br/>
            “You’re burning,” she nods to my chest and nudges the bottle of sunscreen closer. I slather on the coconut scented lotion. “Why did you skip lunch?”<br/>
            “I wasn’t hungry,” <br/>
            “I heard your stomach growl when I sat down,” she look over at me, “Eat the sandwich,” I pick up the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut into fourths. I feel like it has been months since I ate one of these. “Something is bothering you,” she stretches out her legs in sand. <br/>
            “Am I still that easy to read?”<br/>
            “No, I just know you,” she smiles, seeming slightly embarrassed by the admission. <br/>
            “It’s not important,” I think of what she said a few nights ago. She is battling her own demons; she doesn’t need to wrestle mine too. <br/>
            “I unloaded a lot on you a few nights ago,” she says quietly, as if reading my thoughts, “Just because I’m going through something doesn’t mean you can’t be.” She turns to face me, her back to the water, “Come on, what’s going on in that head of yours?” she leans forward, pushing up her sunglasses.<br/>
            “I used to be a force to be reckoned with. Now I can’t even get up off the ground without help.” I play with the edge of the paper plate, “I am so scared of being a useless burden, just a drain on everyone around me,” <br/>
            “Excuse me?” I flinch at the anger in her voice. “I thought I made myself explicitly clear,” I get the courage to look over at her. I’m surprised to see she isn’t angry, as her tone indicates, but hurt. She looks like she is near tears. “Your usefulness is the least of my concerns. I don’t care how useful you are. Your value to me doesn’t come from your abilities. You are so important to me, Wanda.”<br/>
            “What if I can never be an Avenger again?”<br/>
            “Do you want to be?”<br/>
            “Yes,” I reply without a moment of hesitation.<br/>
            “Then I have no doubt that you will,” she looks at me without a hint of uncertainty. Like I am not damaged beyond repair. Like I can sleep through the night. Like I am not missing a limb. </p><p> </p><p>Despite being more like herself at dinner, Natasha doesn’t join us on the beach for the bonfire. I sit in an Adirondack chair with Lila cozied up on my lap. <br/>
            “Is Auntie Nat coming?” She asks hopefully as Clint comes down to join us. <br/>
            “Don’t be stupid, Lila,” Cooper glares at his sister. <br/>
            “Mom!” Lila whines. A simple look is all it takes for Cooper to issue an apology. We roast marshmallows and Clint tells stories of his time in the circus. They are different than the ones he has told me. These are happier, they involve tightrope walkers and a monkey who used to pick pockets. He leaves out the abused animals and sleeping on the floor with only stray hay as a pillow. <br/>
            “What was it like growing up in Sokovia?” Cooper asks, taking a bite of his s’more. Clint and Laura freeze, clearly unsure how to proceed.<br/>
            “It wasn’t that much different than in the U.S. when I was young. We went to school and had birthday parties. Pietro and I had bunk beds, and I was on the bottom. He always hung his feet over the side, dangling them in my face,” I laugh at the memory,  “There was a great playground near my apartment that my father would take us to on Saturdays and when we would come home, my mother would have made some kind of pastry or sweet for us.” <br/>
            “Where are your mom and dad? Why aren’t they here with you?” Lila asks, craning her neck to look at me. <br/>
            “They’re with Pietro,” I keep my eyes on the fire. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Lila nod in understanding. She knows Pietro saved her father’s life by sacrificing his own. Her brother was named after him. The fire becomes quiet with the weight of the discussion. Guilt swirls in my stomach for bringing down the mood. “You know what though? We used to have fire just like this,” I tell her. It’s a bit of a lie. We had to burn our wooden furniture in the fireplace when electricity was turned off and gas was too expensive. “And we’d roast food like this. Hot dogs, vegetables, even beans!” I tickle her stomach. She erupts into giggles. <br/>
            “Dad can we roast hotdogs?” Lila climbs off my lap, running over to Clint. “I’ll go grab them from the fridge,” She darts into the house without waiting for an answer, spraying sand behind her. Cooper stares at me from across the fire, looking older than nine. He knows more about the lives of Clint, Nat, and I. He’s seen behind the curtain a bit more than Lila. <br/>
            “I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have,” Clint trails off.<br/>
            “It’s fine, she didn’t know. She’s a kid,” <br/>
            “I know it’s not the same, but I’m happy you’re a part of our family,” Cooper offers shyly. My heart swells. <br/>
            “Thank you, Coop. That means a lot,” Lila bounces back out to the fire with hot dogs and new sticks. <br/>
            “Auntie Nat said we can’t use the same sticks for marshmallows and hot dogs. She said that’s gross,” Why is Natasha sitting inside by herself? I look towards the house but can’t see her. After roasting hot dogs, Clint declares that it is time for bed. The groans from the kids are cut off by yawns. Laura helps me up from the chair and we do a three-legged race into the house. I grab my crutches by the door. Natasha is curled up on the couch with a book, completely engrossed. <br/>
            “Hey, Nat. We’re all heading to bed.” she looks up from her novel “I was thinking tomorrow night we do some star gazing instead of a bonfire, sound like a plan?” <br/>
            “Sounds good, Laura,” Natasha smiles at her friend. I leave them to talk and head to take a shower. The smoky musk is nearly impossible to get out of my hair. I stand up, gripping the bar, and feel my balance waver. But I quickly steady myself and finish the nighttime routine without further incident. I lie down in bed, my wet hair soaking through the pillowcase, and can hear the waves lapping at the shore. <br/>
            There is a knock at my door in the morning. I put a pillow over my head, trying to go back to sleep. The knocker persists. <br/>
            “What?” I groan, “It must be six o’clock in the morning,” I prop myself up on my elbows and Natasha opens the door.<br/>
            “It’s eleven,” she laughs, “We wanted to let you sleep in,” Eleven? I can’t remember the last time I slept that late, or through the night. I feel well rested, a sensation both foreign and familiar at the same time. “But now it’s time to get up and have lunch. Then we’re going surfing,” <br/>
            “I don’t want to go out and watch everyone,” I lie back down. She comes over, pulling me up. <br/>
            “No, you misunderstood. <em>We’re</em> going surfing,” <br/>
            “Maybe if I could use my leg, but right now I think I’m a limb shy,” I look at her uncertainly.<br/>
            “Do you trust me?” I nod, “Then get your ass out of bed and into the kitchen,”<br/>
             I find everyone gathered around the table as I wheel out, pushing my chair into its spot. I managed to not get yelled at by Nat for using my crutches for a bit yesterday, but I don’t want to push my luck. Hamburgers and pasta salad wait in the center of the table. <br/>
            “Okay, Wanda is here, can you tell us now?” Lila demands. I look over at Nat. <br/>
            “Laura and Clint have an announcement,” she explains, seeming just as perplexed. <br/>
            “I’m pregnant!” Laura announces. <br/>
            “You’re having another baby?” Cooper stares at his parents. <br/>
            “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you,” Natasha hugs them both. “How far along?” <br/>
            “Twelve weeks, the morning sickness is really kicking my butt this time around.”<br/>
            “Is it a girl?” Lila asks.<br/>
            “We won’t know for another few weeks,” Clint explains. They found out a few weeks ago and booked the trip as soon as the test said positive. One last family vacation before they grow by one more.<br/>
            After lunch, I follow Natasha down to the beach. The bright Hawaiian sun bares down our shoulders.<br/>
            “We should have brought a beach wheelchair,” she mutters, take my arm. <br/>
            “Or you could let me use my leg,” <br/>
            “You have three weeks left, please hold off a little while longer. I’m sure you can make it.” I sit down on a bench by the surfboards as Natasha picks one out. <br/>
            “Do you know how to surf?” <br/>
            “Of course,” she pokes her head out from the shed. “Undercover in 2004, Australian Gold Coast,” she comes out, wiping sweat from her forehead. <br/>
            “Are you okay?” <br/>
            “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” That is a loaded question. But there is a specific reason I have in mind. I bite my cheek, unsure how to proceed.<br/>
            “It’s just, I know that, um, pregnancy can be a sensitive topic for you,”<br/>
            “I’m happy for Laura,” she states firmly. <br/>
            “I didn’t say you weren’t,” I rush to add quickly, “but,”<br/>
            “It doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, things change,” she says cryptically, though a smile in my direction indicates it wasn’t supposed be a riddle. “Now, let’s get you surfing.” We walk carefully to the shoreline and wade in until I’m at my waist. “I’ll be right back,” she runs off and returns with the surfboard, paddling towards me. “Climb up, I know pushing around that chair has given you some major guns,” I laugh and haul myself onto the front of the surfboard.<br/>
            “Now what?” She doesn’t answer but begins to paddle forward. My eyes widen as a wave begins to crest. I can’t hold back my gasp of horror as she sends us flying towards it. She manipulates the board somehow and are still on it, not tossed off into the water. We go again, feeling bolder, I lean forward, the saltwater spraying my face. It is freeing. We float closer to the shore and Natasha sits down, crossing her legs. I turn to face her. <br/>
            “See? Surfing,” she teases, laughing.<br/>
            “Kind of,” I grin, “Thanks Nat,” She nods, fixing her ponytail.<br/>
            “We’re a team,” her playful smile fades, “No matter how bad things get, I’m not going anywhere, okay?” reaches out and squeezes my hand, “It’s you and me, Little Witch.” I want to bring up the adoption papers, but she begins to paddle back to shore, ending the conversation.<br/>
            The vacation comes to an end far too quickly. Lila is tearful in her goodbye, much to Cooper’s annoyance.<br/>
            “They will be back on the Fourth of July,” he rolls his eyes, dragging his sister in the farmhouse. Clint flies the plane back to New York, relishing his last hours of flying Tony’s private jet. Natasha doesn’t speak, but she seems content, not lost like on our way there. Her fingers drum on the armrest, thoughts clearly churning. Clint drops us off at the tower before heading upstate to the compound. He, Sam, and Vision are taking the quinjet on a mission to South Africa.<br/>
            Natasha and I take a town car from the tower and to our apartment. New York is amazing in early June. Across the street in the park, there are children squealing and dogs walking. Couples hold hands. I spot the brother and sister I always see racing; the sister is finally catching up.<br/>
            “Are you ready for finals this week?” Nat asks as we wait for the elevator.<br/>
            “Yes, I have studied nonstop for weeks, nothing is going to stop me from starting senior year this fall.” The elevator chimes and we enter. In gilded walls of the elevator, a distorted reflection of ourselves looks back. My hair had lightened in the sun in the past week, the red tones shining through.<br/>
            “We kind of look alike,” Natasha smiles, flipping my braid over my shoulder. We get out of the elevator and unlock the door to our apartment. Natasha quickly goes to open the windows, letting in the refreshing late spring air.<br/>
            “We should go to the park after dinner,” I offer, looking over at Nat.<br/>
            “That’s a great idea,” she turns around, “Speaking of which, what should we have?”<br/>
            “Where do you want to order from?”<br/>
            “I was thinking of giving cooking another go,”<br/>
            “There are many things you are a master of, and continue to learn, but cooking, I am afraid to say, will never be one of them.”<br/>
            “I should know how to make a grilled cheese without setting it on fire.” She walks over to the kitchen. Her mouth sets into a firm line like it does when, on the rare occasion, she is unsure of herself. This is about something more than cooking. I pull myself out of my chair and sit down at the counter.<br/>
            “You don’t have to know how to cook,”<br/>
            “I should,” she mutters, more to herself than me. She opens the fridge; it is mostly empty. I don’t know what she could be hoping to find in there.<br/>
            “I don’t need you to,”<br/>
            “What proper,” she hesitates, “guardian doesn’t know how to cook?” Oh.<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “Hmm?”<br/>
            “Will you please close the fridge and look at me?” She turns around, her eyebrows raised. “We need to talk, without you running out of the room or paddling to the shore or going to throw knives.”<br/>
            “What’s wrong?” she closes the fridge door and walks over to the island; concern paints itself across her face.<br/>
            “I need you.” My chest flushes, but I need to do this before my courage wavers.<br/>
            “What?”<br/>
            “You need to know. I know you say that you are a bad person and that you should run away. You think all these horrible things about yourself. But you save the world and always put others first. You do anything to protect the people you care about. You think that you are some monster that should always be held at arm’s length,”<br/>
            “Wanda, you don’t see the real me. This weapon,”<br/>
            “No, when I look at you, I just see you. You took me in when I was scared, even though I had caused you pain again and again. You rescued me from being tortured and pulled me from a prison of my own creation. You defended me when others wanted to lock me up, even if it meant leaving the only home you ever knew. You have continuously put my needs ahead of your own, no matter the suffering it may cause you. When I look at you, I see the woman who slept outside my bedroom door for months, ready to be there at a moment’s notice. Natasha, when I look at you, I just see my mom.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahhhh!! It finally happened!!!! What will Nat's response be?!<br/>I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!! Its one of my favorites thus far! Thank you all again for your amazing comments, they motivate me to turn out new chapters as quickly as possible! Can't wait for you to read what comes next! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! This chapter took me ages to write, so sorry! i wanted to make sure i got this scene just right. Thank you all for your comments and support on the last chapter! Each comment was so appreciated!!! Without your continued support, this chapter would never have come to fruition. I can't wait for you all to read what comes next!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “Natasha?” Wanda’s voice wavers.<br/>
            “I,” I hesitate, unsure what to say, “I’m sorry I can’t cook,”<br/>
            “What?” I pull open the drawer with the takeout menus and put the down on the counter, “Nat,”<br/>
            “We can order whatever you want, just let me know when it’s here.” I rush into the library, slamming the door behind me. My heart is pounding, I can’t do this. Why did I think I could do this? I’m not fit to be a mother. I should run. I haven’t been to Bolivia, no one knows me there. It is supposed to be beautiful. Wanda could go live with Clint and get the life she deserves. A happy family, siblings. Normal.<br/>
            My eyes land on the papers on my desk. The blood on them is glaring against the crisp white document. I was fooling myself, filling those out. Wanda needs better than what I can give her. The fact that I have stuck around this long shows how clouded my judgement has become. I pick up the stack of papers and go to drop them into the bin. A single sheet escapes the pile, floating to the ground. I reach down to grab it and see a flowing signature starkly different than my own precise scrawl. In black ink and elegant swirls, Wanda’s name is splashed across the page. I flip to the other sheets. Her initials and signature are dotted throughout, not a single space left blank. She signed the papers. When did she sign them? I go through again, making sure I am not imagining things. I think I check at least half a dozen more times, still not believing. How long has she known that this document exists, just waiting for a judge’s approval? Why would she sign them? I grip the papers and gather the courage to leave the room.  <br/>
            Wanda is still sitting at the counter, her shoulders shaking. The takeout menus are scattered all over the floor. I step carefully around the leaflets.<br/>
            “Little Witch?” I place a hand gently on her back. She looks up, her face streaked with tears. A single menu sits in front of her, the one for our favorite Italian place. She knows when I was going to bring them up. I had brought them in that big purse. The last item I have from my time working for the Red Room. The only thing I had in my possession when Clint saved me. That night in the restaurant was so disastrous. Her tears have soaked into the glossy paper, the red ink of the logo bleeding into the rest of the page.<br/>
            “Please don’t leave, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I said anything. Just don’t leave,”<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “Did I do something? Something to make you not want me anymore? Did you finally realize I’m just too damaged? Not worth the trouble?” The anguish in her voice is like a punch to the gut. I place the papers on the counter.<br/>
            “Oh, no, never.” I brush away her tears and turn the chair to face me. “You are the light of my life,”<br/>
            “Is it because of what I said that night? It wasn’t true, I have never told a bigger lie,”<br/>
             “You said something you didn’t mean, I would never hold that against you,”<br/>
             “Then why don’t you want me?”<br/>
            “I would be honored to be your mother, Wanda, but I don’t deserve to be.”<br/>
            “That doesn’t make any sense, it has to be something I did,”<br/>
            “It has nothing to do with you,”<br/>
            “How can it not? It is about adopting me!”<br/>
            “There is something wrong with me,” I force myself not to yell, not to raise my voice. My frustration is threatening to break through. “I’m scared I can’t be who you need me to be,”<br/>
            “But you already are,” her big blue eyes cut right into me, “You are already exactly who I need you to be. I just need you, Natasha.”<br/>
            “I am dangerous, a weapon. I,” Her eyes glow red, cutting me off.<br/>
            Red tendrils flicker out from her fingertips. I can feel someone gently brushing hair away from my face, a hand rubbing my back, covers being pulled tight. Peanut butter sandwiches cut into fourths. Arms wrapping around me. A flash of red hair. A steady heartbeat. A hand squeeze. An overwhelming sense of safety overcomes me. Her expression is raw and open.<br/>
            “I am scared of this world. There is always someone trying to hurt me, there has been since I was ten years old. But when I am with you, I feel safe. I feel cared for. I feel loved.” She bites her cheek. “I have been terrified for weeks that you are just going to disappear. That one day, I would wake up, and you would just be gone. That I would never feel safe again.” Her eyes pool with tears once more. “I am selfish, holding onto you like this. Holding on when you want to run, I know this.”<br/>
            “I have never wanted to run from you,” I pull her hands into mine, “Any time I have I was trying to protect you. I can be dangerous, Wanda. Unhinged. I can’t put you at risk. That is the only thing worse than leaving you.”          <br/>
            “I don’t need you to protect me from you,”<br/>
             “My job is to protect you from any threat!” I snap.<br/>
             “Your job?” her voice rises, and she rips her hands from my grasp. “Your <em>job</em>?<br/>
             “Yes! My job as your mother!” I quickly bite back. A hopeful smile blooms across her face. Oh. My words play back to me. Neither of us say anything for a moment.<br/>
            “You are my mom, whether you bring the documents into the court room or not. No ruling from a judge is going to change that.” She sits up straight, “If submitting this paperwork is going to drive you away, then we can forget about it,” her voice hitches. “But you have to promise not to leave. I can’t lose another parent,” What have I done? I can’t abandon her; I have never been able to. <em>Love is for children</em>.<br/>
            “Do you remember when you tried to run away, the first time?” I ask.<br/>
             “You mean after I almost killed you?” she frowns, she shoulders sagging.<br/>
             “No, the <em>first</em> time. I had a flashback, with the Nutcracker.” She nods slowly.<br/>
            “I made you tea with honey, but you take it without.”<br/>
             “You went to your room and packed a bag. I went in to stop you. I had a feeling that you would try to run, it’s what I would do.”<br/>
            “You told me that I am not my mistakes,” she whispers.<br/>
            “You asked me to hate you, and I said I couldn’t. Because I realized in that moment, I already loved you and wanted to protect you from this world. To care for you and stop anything bad from ever happening to you again. And I failed.”<br/>
             “You can’t promise that, no one can promise a life without pain.”<br/>
            “I swear to you I will never stop trying,” I can feel my heart hammering in my chest. I pull her off the chair and into a hug.<br/>
            “I love you,” Wanda breathes.<br/>
            “I love you too,” her head rests in the crook of my neck, “And though I don’t deserve the privilege, I am so proud to have you as my daughter.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the uncharacteristically short chapter, I had tried to make it longer but felt that it sullied that impact of their conversation! I really hope you enjoyed it, i know this is something we have all been waiting for! Thank you all for following along! I will try to post the next one tomorrow to make up for how short this one is! As always, any feedback is welcome and appreciated :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for your comments on the last chapter!! I am so glad it turned out as well as I hoped! You are all amazing and I am so grateful for your support! Idk how I can write a chapter following a build up 120,000 words in the making, but i did my best! lol<br/>Thank you again for following along and as always, commends and feedback are welcome and appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            I stare at myself in the mirror and try to sit up straighter, make my smile seem more genuine. I can’t seem to progress beyond grimace.<br/>
            “Wanda, are you almost ready?” Natasha pokes her head in my bedroom.<br/>
            “No,” I turn to face her, “Why can’t I just take the tests after school?”<br/>
            “This is something you should have asked me before the day of the exams.” She leans against the door jamb. “I’ll be in the neighborhood the whole time, just seconds away,” she assures me.<br/>
            “Everyone is going to stare,”<br/>
            “Probably,” she walks over and take an elastic off her wrist, then proceeds to pull my hair up into a ponytail. It swishes across my neck when she lets go. “You’ll look more confident if you aren’t hiding behind this gorgeous hair of yours,”<br/>
            “What should I do if they stare?”<br/>
            “Kill them,” she shrugs.<br/>
            “Natasha!” I groan, trying not to smile.<br/>
            “What? Not a valid option?” Her lips twitch.<br/>
            “I wanted real advice,”<br/>
            “I’m not great at the advice, can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?” her eyes shine with amusement.  <br/>
            “Stop trying to cheer me up!” I laugh.<br/>
            “Let’s get going, you don’t want to be late.”<br/>
            We pull up to the school in the SUV. I saw Natasha eyeing her Porsche in the garage. Though she would never say anything, she misses the car deeply. I cannot even begin to fathom that of all things for her to be sentimental towards, it’s a car.<br/>
            “I don’t want to go in,” I look over at her pleading, “We could go to Cabo instead. Or maybe Ireland if you aren’t feeling the sun.” There is a knock on my window. Natasha rolls it down with a smile.<br/>
            “Hi Peter, happy last day of school.” She puts the car in park.<br/>
            “Thank you Ms. Romanoff,” he smiles at me like I haven’t ghosted him for n early a month, “I am so excited that you’re back Wanda, we all missed you.” Natasha hops out of the car and grabs the wheelchair from the back. Peter stands off to the side as I get out of the car. Some people have already started to stare and take pictures. I feel shame and embarrassment heating up my chest. Natasha straightens up and glares at the people around us with their phones snapping pictures. The photos stop instantly.<br/>
            “I will see you in a few hours, okay?” She climbs back into the SUV and pulls away from the school. I want her to come back and pick me up. <br/>
            “Are you ready for your exams?” Peter asks.<br/>
            “Yes,” I push the chair forward.<br/>
            “The Barton’s are having a huge Fourth of July party, I was invited.”<br/>
            “Are you coming?”<br/>
            “I think so.” We reach the top of the ramp. “Are you okay?”<br/>
            “I am going to take my exams in a wheelchair. Everyone is staring and taking photos, most of which will be sold to the tabloids in the next ten minutes.”<br/>
            “I think I could put together a small EMP real quick, take out everyone’s phones with a click of the button. Would probably make for more honest test taking too,”<br/>
            “I appreciate the offer, but I think I may have to tough it out,” I smile at him, trying to make up for being to brusque earlier. “I’ll see you in history, okay?” He nods and I enter my classroom the math exam. My heart drops. I can’t believe I forgot about the desks. The narrow rows already leave no room for me to navigate with my chair. But the biggest problem is the fact that all the desks have chairs attached. I catch my teacher’s eyes. She quickly sees the predicament, which is how I end up in the guidance councilor’s office for the remainder of the day, taking my tests alone. It is exactly what I wanted in the first place, but at the same time, I feel disappointed. At two o’clock, I am finally leaving the closet sized space when Natasha marches by, heading straight into Principal’s Morita’s office. She enters without knocking and slams the door shut behind her. I wait in the hall, just outside his office. Natasha is chewing him out, her rage filtering through the glass paneled door. Ten minutes later, when she steps out of the office, she smiles at me. A picture of calm.<br/>
            “Let’s go home and celebrate you finishing your junior year,” She claps her hands together.<br/>
            “What did you do?” I ask her once we are in the car.<br/>
            “The school with have all new desks next year,” Natasha explains.<br/>
            “Nat,”<br/>
            “The fact that they didn’t have a place for you to take exams with your peers is horrible, Wanda. Not to mention illegal. There is no excuse. They violated section 504.”<br/>
            “I don’t know what that means.”<br/>
             “The didn’t provide reasonable accommodations,” she grips the wheel tighter.<br/>
            “Natasha, please don’t make any waves.”<br/>
            “I simply insisted that they get new desks.”<br/>
            “I’ll be walking again in a few days!”<br/>
            “But what if your prosthetic breaks? Or you injure your leg again? We can’t keep you home from school or have you sit in the guidance counselor’s office all day.” I try to think of a rebuttal. “And make sure you keep August 21<sup>st</sup> clear on your calendar.” She beams as she hands the keys to the valet and comes around the other side of the car, helping me down.<br/>
            “I don’t have a calendar, but okay.” I roll my eyes, “Why?”  We make our way inside and wait for the elevator.<br/>
            “The adoption hearing. We got our date in the mail today,” she boards the elevator.<br/>
            “How could you say that so casually? Natasha!” I quickly follow her in.<br/>
            “Because I knew you’d react like this,” she teases, tugging at my ponytail.<br/>
            “You’re the worst,”<br/>
            “I know,” she opens up the door the apartment.<br/>
            “So, in nine weeks I will be adopted?”<br/>
            “It’s you and me kid.” Natasha combs through the fridge and pulls out a bowl of strawberries, placing them in front of my spot at the dining table. She sits down in the chair next to me, propping her feet up on the table. “What do you think of heading out to Clint’s early? Maybe spending a few weeks there?”<br/>
            “Are you okay?” I ask nervously.<br/>
            “Yes, why?”<br/>
            “Because normally when we go to Clint’s it’s because something is wrong,”<br/>
            “I thought you liked it there,” she frowns, “I’m sorry. We don’t have to,”<br/>
            “No, I love being there,” I interrupt, “It’s just,”<br/>
            “Wanda, I’ll let you know if things are bad, okay? Don’t worry about a problem that doesn’t exist.” That’s a lie. She won’t let me know.<br/>
            “So, we are going there for fun?”<br/>
            “Yes,” she steals a strawberry. Her eyes are shining, and she is smiling. She’s leaned back in her chair, relaxed. But I am scared it is all a farce, a front for my sake.<br/>
            “Do you promise?”<br/>
            “Yes, I promise,” she squeezes my hand before getting up from her seat and heading back towards the kitchen. I hear pots and pans clattering.<br/>
             “Do you ever think how funny it would be if people could see into our lives? <em>Black Widow Does After School Snacks</em>,” I gesture in the air like I am proposing a new headline.<br/>
            “Yes, I’m a real Martha Stewart,” she yells from the kitchen, another pan clatters.<br/>
            “What are you doing in there?”<br/>
            “Nothing you need to worry about, go watch TV or something. And don’t forget Chad is coming tomorrow morning!”<br/>
            Finally, after nearly three hours, I get a text from Natasha to come to the kitchen. I gasp. It is an absolute disaster. There is a frying pan broken in half and burnt slices of bread on the floor. However, with triumph, she presents a perfect grilled cheese sandwich.<br/>
            “I made dinner,”<br/>
            “And a war zone,” I tease. Apparently, this was the wrong move. Her eyes flash with emotion before her mouth is drawn into a line. “It is perfect Nat, thank you,” I look around, “Aren’t you going to have one?”<br/>
            “We only had three loaves of bread,” she explains, sitting down next to me with a frozen burrito. I don’t think she microwaved it. I reach for a knife she left on the counter and cut the sandwich in half.<br/>
             “We can share.”</p><p>Natasha goes into the library when Chad arrives. After dinner last night, and cleaning the kitchen, she didn’t hide in her bedroom, but sat with me on the couch.<br/>
            “Wanda,” Chad brings me back to the present. I keep my arms crossed, glaring at him. It is our first physical therapy session since I broke my leg. It is not going well. Thus far, we have gotten in an argument about whether or not using my powers to lift weights counted as cheating, and if he should be going to his girlfriend’s or best friend’s for the holiday. “You can’t expect to be back to where you were. It’s been what? Five, six weeks since you broke your leg?”<br/>
            “I was walking, I was fine,” Frustration creeps into my voice. He won’t let me try the treadmill.<br/>
            “You have spent more than a month in a wheelchair. You need to give yourself a break, kid.”<br/>
            “How can I go back to being an Avenger if I can’t even walk?” I snap. His eyes soften.<br/>
            “Okay, let’s take this one step at a time, literally. First, let’s make it across the room. Then we can talk about you saving babies from burning buildings.” I take a look at my leg, it has to be like riding a bike, right?<br/>
            I stand pull myself up between the parallel bars. I gingerly step forward, putting as little weight as possible on my leg.<br/>
            “Your foot is barely touching the ground,”<br/>
            “The doctor didn’t clear me yet,”<br/>
            “He told me we could test it out today,” Chad insists. “Come on, since when do you back away from a challenge?”<br/>
            “What if it hurts?”<br/>
            “Then we stop,”<br/>
            “Can’t we wait, until Dr. Flaherty clears me?”<br/>
            “Isn’t your appointment tomorrow?” My hands start to sweat against the wood. “Just walk towards me, one foot in front of the other.” I don’t let go of the bars, but I do put my foot down. A dull ache persists, but nothing more. “There you go, ten steps, you’ve got this,” Ten steps. I can do ten steps. The dull ache morphs into pain as I reach the end of the bars. My wheelchair is waiting for me and I collapse into it gratefully. “Five-minute break, then we’ll go again.”<br/>
            A half hour later, I am sweat and in pain. I close my eyes and massage my leg, trying to get the throbbing to subside.<br/>
            “You are going to ice that for the rest of the night. I don’t want you walking around at all, understood?”<br/>
            “Go be with your girlfriend, Chad,” I smile at him briefly, before closing my eyes again, leaning back in my chair. The door opens again, just moments after he left. “I heard you Chad, it’ll be iced.”<br/>
            “That’s good to hear,” Natasha replies.<br/>
            “Sorry, thought you were,”<br/>
            “I figured,” she strolls over to me, “Booked our flight to Iowa, we leave in a few days.” She looks me up and down, “You look like you ran a marathon,” I realize now that I am drenched in sweat.<br/>
            “I may have pushed a little to hard,”<br/>
            “Go take a shower, I’ll get dinner ready.”<br/>
            “Are you running to the Mediterranean place next door?” <br/>
            “Yes, I think last night’s experiment with cooking will be enough for a while.” Bitterness creeps into her voice. I wisely choose to ignore it.<br/>
            “Can you get extra tzatziki? They never give enough.”</p>
<hr/><p>            “Why couldn’t we take the quinjet? Or Tony’s jet?” I ask, slouching down in my seat.<br/>
            “They are both being used, and I didn’t think you wanted to drive to Iowa.” The thought is actually amusing.<br/>
            “We could have stopped and seen things, like the world’s biggest ball of yarn,”<br/>
            “I guess it would have been a good opportunity for you to learn how to drive,” she replies lazily, reading her book. I’ll never be able to drive. I think of my car, sitting at the compound. Completely untouched. When I don’t say anything, she looks up. “What?”<br/>
            “Nat, I can’t drive.”<br/>
            “Of course you can drive.” She rolls her eyes, “I mean maybe not right now because you need to learn, but you will eventually. You were getting pretty good the last time we practiced.”<br/>
            “Yeah, when I had two legs.”<br/>
            “You can drive with a prosthetic,” she closes her book and turns to face me.<br/>
            “You can?”<br/>
            “Yes,” she stands up from her seat. “I’m going to grab a coffee before we board, do you want one?” I nod and she slips into the crowd. It is so loud and busy; I don’t know how Natasha can stand it. The last time I was here was on my way to Geneva. Everything that came after, all the way to losing my leg, could be blamed on my mistake in Geneva. “Wanda,” Natasha is kneeling in front of me. “Hey, you okay?” I blink, and look down at my hands, which are starting to glow red. I feel panic bubble up in my chest and look around, but no one has noticed. “You’re okay, yeah?” I nod, letting the power die down.<br/>
            “I don’t like crowds,” I murmur. She nods in understanding.<br/>
            “They called our boarding group.” I stand up unsteadily, gripping my cane. People with disabilities or young children. I bite my cheek until I can taste blood.<br/>
            We sit in our business class seats, a plane with a first-class cabin wasn’t available. I am surprised when Natasha pulls me into a hug. Public displays of affection aren’t her style.<br/>
            “I brought the pain medicine, just in case.”<br/>
            “I don’t want it,”<br/>
            “I saw you after physical therapy with Chad, you were in a lot of pain,”<br/>
            “They make everything cloudy, and I get so tired,”<br/>
            “I know, but I don’t want you in pain, okay? You have to let me know if you need something stronger than Advil.” I nod mutely and keep my head resting on her shoulder.</p><p>            We arrive at the Barton farm and I step carefully out of the rented car. The front door opens. Lila comes bombing towards us. A quick scoop by Natasha saves me from being knocked over.<br/>
            “Hey chickadee,” she hangs her upside down, much to the little girl’s amusement.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat, put me down!” she laughs.<br/>
            “As long as you promise not to tackle Wanda,” Lila’s feet are planted on the ground once more.<br/>
            “You have a leg again,” Lila turns to Clint who raced to catch up with his daughter, the rest of the family not far behind. “You said legs can’t grow back.” I pull up the leg of my grey sweatpants, revealing the metal ankle. I forgot that they had never seen the prosthetic. Lila’s mouth drops into an ‘o’.<br/>
            “So cool, you’re like Ironman,” Lila stares at me in awe. Cooper stands off to the side, noticeably more subdued than his sister, he makes no move to hug Natasha, who is smiling at him. Laura holds Nate, who is squirming and reaching for Natasha. She takes him from Laura with a smile, bouncing him on her hip.<br/>
            “How’s the baby?” Natasha looks down at Laura’s stomach. She is just starting to show.<br/>
            “Finally stopped giving me morning sickness, so for now, we like her.”<br/>
            “It’s a girl?” Natasha smiles.<br/>
            “We haven’t found out for sure yet, just a feeling.”<br/>
            “Let’s get into the air conditioning, it is hot as hell out here,” Clint wipes his forehead after grabbing our bags from the car.<br/>
            “Swear jar,” Lila quips and then grabs my free hand, ignoring the clamminess. “My grandpa has a cane like that,” she tells me as we walk towards the house. The tips of my ears get hot.<br/>
            “Lila, Jesus,” Clint huffs.<br/>
            “He does!” she argues, “But I miss your wheelchair, can you get that back? I liked the rides,”<br/>
            “Have you ever considered not talking?” Cooper asks, dragging his sister away.<br/>
            “You okay?” Nat asks. I nod, concentrating on the ground in front of me. We get inside and I am sweating and in pain. Natasha puts Nate down as soon as we get inside. He toddles after his siblings. “Why don’t we change out of our travel clothes? And you can ice your leg,” She begins to make her way up the stairs. I stand at the base, rooted in fear.<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “I can’t,”<br/>
            “You’ve done these stairs before, I’ll be right here.” I look at the winding and creaking antique steps looming before me. “I can stand right behind you, you won’t fall.”<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “No,” I snap, I can feel my eyes pulsing red.<br/>
            “Okay, okay. Calm down Little Witch,” my breath comes in ragged gasps. “Sit down, breathe, I’m right here.” She rubs my back, “In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. That’s it, again,” I feel my powers die out, my anxiety subsiding. “Okay, you ready to try this again?”<br/>
            “No.”<br/>
            “I’ll help you, okay?” She supports my right side and we make our way up the narrow stairs.<br/>
            I fall asleep in her bed, the icepack resting on my leg and the air conditioning cranking. My mouth is dry, and I roll over to get some water off the nightstand. I can hear Nat and Laura whispering in the hall.<br/>
            “Is Wanda okay?”<br/>
            “Yes, she’s just hit a bit of a rough patch. I think the fall really damaged her confidence, but we’ll get there.” Natasha’s voice is rough. I feel a pinch of shame burning in my chest, I don’t want to worry her.<br/>
            “You’re doing a great job; you need to know that. Clint told me you got the date for the adoption hearing,”<br/>
            “I’m doing the right thing, right?”<br/>
            “Yes. I’m really proud of you Nat,”<br/>
            “Laura, stop,” she groans. “You are just as bad as Clint,”<br/>
            “I’ll see you downstairs in a little bit,” Laura’s steps retreat, and Natasha turns around.<br/>
            “You’re up,” she smiles.<br/>
            “How long was I asleep for?”<br/>
            “Only an hour,”<br/>
            “I’m sorry I freaked out on the stairs, and at the airport,”<br/>
            “You don’t have to apologize,” she its down next to me, “You never have to apologize for that. Okay?” I nod, trying not to cry. “Why don’t we head downstairs? I am sure Lila can’t wait to put her foot in her mouth again and try to braid our hair.” I snort. “Good, come on,” she hands me my leg and I slide it on over the compression sock. We make our way slowly down the stairs and through the living room before making it to the dining table.<br/>
            “So did Nat tell you we’re having a pool put in this week?” Clint asks, pouring me a glass of lemonade.<br/>
            “No,” I raise my eyebrows.<br/>
            “Just in time for the party. It looks like we’re in for a hot summer too,” Laura joins us at the table, passing Nathaniel over to Nat. She smiles down at the baby who tugs at the bottom of her braid. Lila joins us in the dining room with a pad of paper and crayons, drawing with an attention span I didn’t know a young child could have. Cooper is noticeably absent.<br/>
            When Laura calls out that dinner is ready an hour later, Cooper comes down the stairs. He sits down between Laura and I, hardly looking up. The meal goes by smoothly, laughter swirls around the table. Natasha manages to eat dinner with Nate on her lap, no small feat. Clint and Lila clear the table and go to grab ice cream from the fridge.<br/>
            “You spoil him, Nat. I swear, starting bad habits,” Laura pretends to scold as she looks at her friend fondly.<br/>
            “How can I not? Look at him,” Natasha coos. Cooper shifts beside me. He hasn’t said a word since he sat down.<br/>
            “You know if you want to be my hero, you could do bed,”<br/>
            “How can you let her hold him?” Cooper exclaims, interrupting his mother.<br/>
            “What?” Laura turns to look at her son, just as Clint and Lila reenter the room.<br/>
            “How can you let her hold Nate? How can you let her anywhere near any of us?”<br/>
            “What’s going on?” Clint looks between the four of us.<br/>
            “Don’t you know what she’s done? How can you bring her into our house?” Cooper yells, knocking over his chair. “Do you know what she has done?” He demands, looking at his parents.<br/>
            “Cooper,” Laura whispers.<br/>
            “She used to be an assassin! She has killed hundreds of people! Why would you think it is okay to have her be around us?” I look over to Natasha. She is completely shattered, devastated. She shakily puts Nate in his highchair.<br/>
            “Cooper Barton, you will stop talking this instant, so help me God,” Clint slams the ice cream down on the table, pulling my attention from Nat. Lila is shaking, holding the bowls and spoons close to her chest.<br/>
            “I read it all online! It is like she isn’t even human. She’s a monster,” A hand slaps across Cooper’s face. Laura seems just as surprised as the rest of us that she just hit her child.<br/>
            “Coop, I,” she stutters, tears streaming down her face. I realize that Cooper has been holding this in since we arrived. He had been distant and cold when we got out of the car. And then dragged his sister away as quickly as possible. This is Natasha’s worst nightmare. Someone she loves so dearly, thinking she is a monster. Confirming her fears. I turn to reassure her, to tell her he didn’t mean it. That she is not a monster. That she is good. That I love her. But she is gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Cliff hanger!!! I have wondered how the kids would react to finding out about Nat’s past, especially since most of it was dumped online.<br/>I will try to post two new chapters this weekend (along with the second to last chapter of Welcome Home)!<br/>*Special shout out to my consistent commenters! (I am just making up words at this point, its been a long day) You guys rock and are the reason this story is still going!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tried to post as soon as possible after that terrible cliffhanger i left you all on! Please enjoy!<br/>Also hope you are all staying safe! Things are getting scary out there and we are being told to avoid large gatherings so that means instead of going out I will be posting new chapters!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “Natasha’s gone,” I state. They don’t hear me, they’re too busy yelling at Cooper. “Natasha’s gone,” I try again, louder. Why aren’t they listening to me? She’s gone. She left. She promised not to leave. No matter how bad things got, she wouldn’t leave. She promised. “Natasha is gone!” My glass of water shatters. They all look over at me, then to the noticeably empty seat.<br/>
            “Oh no,” Laura breathes.<br/>
             “God fucking damnit!” Clint curses. Even Lila knows better than to mention the swear jar. “Do you know what you’ve done?” He turns to Cooper, his words dripping with vitriol.<br/>
            “She is a killer!”<br/>
            “And what then, do you think I am?” Clint’s voice is dangerously low and calm. Cooper’s eyes widen. “Laura, take Lila and Nate outside. We’re going to have a chat.” I don’t want to be a part of this. Why am I getting roped in? I look to Laura for help, but she is already rushing Lila out of the room, the little girl crying. My leg is propped up against the china cabinet, just out of reach. Using my powers would pull too much attention. I am stuck.<br/>
            “You’re a killer?” he squeaks out.<br/>
            “Do you want to know how I met Natasha?” Clint sits down across from Cooper, his eyes dark.<br/>
            “You met at work,” he says, somewhat unsure.<br/>
            “I was sent to kill her.”<br/>
            “But you’re a superhero, superheroes don’t kill people.”<br/>
            “This isn’t one of your TV shows, this is real life. What do you think we do one missions?”<br/>
            “You kill?” He looks over to me, “But you’re a kid, like me. You haven’t, right?”<br/>
            “I have.” The admission hurts. I can see his innocence shattering. Ten is too young, I would know. The wheels are turning in his head, trying to make sense of this new information, rationalize it in some way.<br/>
            “But you kill bad guys, she just killed anyone. She’s an assassin, I read it!”<br/>
            “Coop, what I am about to explain to you is really big stuff, okay?” Clint’s voice loses the edge he had been wielding, the anger that was protecting how scared and upset he really is. “Auntie Nat was raised in this place called the Red Room, in Russia.”<br/>
            “I know, it was a boarding school where they taught her ballet,” Cooper nods.<br/>
            “No, it was a prison, they hurt her. Experimented and did tests on her. They tortured her. When she was a kid, younger than you, they used to shoot her so she would get used to the pain,” Cooper’s confidence wavers and he sinks lower into his seat. “And she has this thing in her head, we call them blocks or walls, that make it hard for her to,” Clint hesitates, unsure of how much he should be telling his son. “They used to go into her head and take away memories. And they would do all this to control her, to get them to do what they wanted. If she didn’t, they’d hurt her.”<br/>
            “Why?”<br/>
            “Because they were bad people, Coop. Natasha had no choice, they controlled her brain. She had no control over her actions.”<br/>
            “So, she didn’t want to do those things?” he asks warily.<br/>
            “No, not at all.” Clint looks at his son sadly, “You know how you get mad at yourself after you do something wrong? Like if you are mean to Lila or fight with Mom?” Cooper nods. “Natasha feels that way all the time.”<br/>
            “But she didn’t want to do those things,”<br/>
            “That doesn’t matter to her, the fact that she did them is enough. And now imagine you are brought to an alien planet. Everything is different. Left is right, up is down. And everyone just expects you to know this, to get it immediately. When Auntie Nat came here, she discovered that everything she ever knew was wrong.”<br/>
            “She must have been scared,” Cooper whispers.<br/>
            “It was a big change, but you helped her through it.”<br/>
            “I did?” Clint nods.<br/>
            “She started trying a lot harder to understand the new rules when you came along. She thought you were worth figuring them out.” Clint’s leg bounces up and down under the table, the only outward sign of the anxiety he is feeling, “Auntie Nat loves you so much. Has she ever done anything to hurt you? Or prove otherwise?”<br/>
            “No,”<br/>
            “She’s adopting Wanda, does that sound like something a monster would do?”<br/>
            “I guess not,” he frowns, “But how can you trust her? After all she’s done?”<br/>
            “Because of all she’s done since then,” Clint’s index finger starts to tap on the table, “Do you trust me and Mom? Do you know we’d never hurt you?” Cooper nods reluctantly. “Then you know that if we trust Natasha, you should too,” Clint stands up from the table, unable to sit here having this conversation any longer.<br/>
            “I’m sorry,” Cooper breathes.<br/>
            “I have to go find Natasha and hope she didn’t find a way to kill herself,” He grumbles, pulling on his boots. The thought hadn’t occurred to me. That is worse than disappearing. At least when she disappears, she can come back.<br/>
            “What?” Cooper cries, tears pooling in his eyes, “I don’t want her to die!” Clint looks up, realizing he said that aloud.<br/>
            “I shouldn’t have said that, but I have to go,” Clint runs out the door to find his best friend. Cooper turns to me. I can’t be the one to comfort him right now. I want to yell at him for doing this to her, to me. To breaking her heart.<br/>
            “Okay, how about we watch a movie?” Laura comes into the dining room, trying to sound upbeat, “Dad will be home with Auntie Nat in a little while. Everything is okay,” I look at her dubiously. That may work on Cooper and Lila, but it won’t on me.  <br/>
            We settle in on the couch and some brightly colored cartoon plays on the TV. Natasha’s phone sits on the dining table. Calling her would be fruitless. I wait for an update from Clint, checking my phone every few minutes. When I Google her, the latest results show us at the airport in New York.<br/>
            Three hours later, the kids have gone to bed and I still sit with Laura on the couch. Clint still hasn’t returned. She hands me a mug of tea. In the icy air conditioning, the warmth of the mug is welcomed.<br/>
            “She’s coming back, right?” I ask, looking up from the darkened water.<br/>
            “Of course,” Laura assures me, but I can tell she doesn’t believe it herself. We sit in the living room a while longer, the TV on mute as a late-night talk show host talks to a celebrity. The only sound is their grandfather clock ticking. The front door opens and Clint walks in, alone.<br/>
            “You didn’t find her?” Laura climbs off the couch to greet her husband.<br/>
            ‘The cars are still here, even the bicycles. Crop duster is here too. She went by foot,”<br/>
            “That means she couldn’t have gotten far,” Laura offers. Clint shakes his head.<br/>
            “It means she left the farm on foot, she could be on another continent by now,” Clint runs his fingers through his hair, “I need a drink,”<br/>
            “I think I’m going to go to bed,” I reply, putting down my half empty mug. “I will see you in the morning,” I make my way up the stairs slowly, each step deliberate. Natasha isn’t here to catch me if I fall.<br/>
            “Wanda?” Lila opens her bedroom door.<br/>
            “Hey Li, what are you doing up? It’s almost eleven,”<br/>
             “I’m scared for Auntie Nat,” For. Not of.<br/>
             “Why is that?” I head towards her bedroom.<br/>
            “Cooper was mean to her, hurt her feelings. Whenever she runs away, she comes back hurt. I don’t want her to get hurt,”<br/>
            “She’ll come back soon,” I promise, leading her to her bed.<br/>
            “It was mean of Cooper to say those things,” Lila yawns, crawling under the covers.<br/>
            “What do you mean?” That is a weird way to phrase it.<br/>
            “It upsets her, what happened before Daddy found her,”<br/>
            “You knew about that?”<br/>
            “Yeah, I picked up sign language faster than Cooper, I wanted to be a good spy like Auntie Nat. They talked about it last summer, I eavesdropped, or eaveswatched,” she snuggles down into her pillow.<br/>
            “Why didn’t you say anything?”<br/>
            “She was sad talking about it, I didn’t want to make her sad,” she closes her eyes, “But she’ll come back, right?”<br/>
            “She’ll come back,” I whisper, closing the door behind me.<br/>
            I lean heavily on my cane as I make my way to Natasha’s room, my leg aching. The door sticks, but I push it open, stumbling slightly. The dim light of the moon fills the room with shadows. It sends a chill down my spine. My eyes land on the corner by the windows.<br/>
            “Natasha?” Sitting on the floor is Natasha, wrapped in a blanket. I walk over and she looks up at me, her eyes glassy. “You didn’t leave?”<br/>
            “I promised you I wouldn’t,” she murmurs, her gaze breaking away.<br/>
            “You didn’t leave.” I send a text to Clint and sit down next to her. “I can’t believe no one thought to look in the house.”<br/>
            “You looked for me?”<br/>
            “Clint’s been searching for hours. He only just got home. I would have joined but,”<br/>
            “Why was he looking for me? I don’t understand.” I look at her closely, praying something didn’t break in her mind. I wonder what she has been doing here for three, almost four, hours.<br/>
            “He is your best friend,” I remind her gently.<br/>
            “He’s a father first,” she mumbles. “The first time I held Cooper, I was so scared I would hurt him. I had never held a baby, something so small and innocent. I couldn’t believe they trusted me to even touch him. We had known each other for less than a year,” she smiles wistfully, “Clint learned Laura was pregnant right after our first mission. I was so scared I would make a mistake. Hold him too tight or too loose.”<br/>
             “Nat,”<br/>
            “I wish I could go back,” she sighs, “I wish I could have never held him. Never thrown myself into their lives. They could be normal.”<br/>
            “Clint would be dead ten times over if you weren’t there.”<br/>
            “He would’ve made it,” Natasha closes her eyes, “Has Clint told you when he wants me out by? I know you texted him,”<br/>
            “He isn’t going to kick you out Nat.”<br/>
            “Why?”<br/>
            “He wants to know if he can come up,”<br/>
            “His house,” she closes her eyes once more, though she is most definitely not sleeping. There is a knock on the door a few minutes later and it cracks open. Clint rushes in when he sees Natasha and pulls her into a hug.<br/>
            “You’re still here,”<br/>
            “I’ll leave. I just couldn’t with Wanda and,”<br/>
            “Natasha,” he pulls away, “What on Earth are you talking about?”<br/>
            “I need to leave, right?” she looks confused, “Cooper knows, he’ll never feel safe around me again. I can’t do that to him.”<br/>
             “Nat, we talked. I’m so sorry. He feels horrible for what he said, he didn’t know.”<br/>
            “You told him about the Red Room?” She hops up quickly, shedding the blanket, her eyes blazing with fury. “You told him about what they did to me?<br/>
             “Natasha, that was the only way to get him to understand,”<br/>
            “Did it occur to you that I would <em>rather</em> him hate me than know there are people and places like that in this world?”<br/>
            “That isn’t your call,” Clint says softly.<br/>
            “It’s my past,”<br/>
            “He’s my kid.” They stare at each other for a moment, a challenge. It is Natasha who relents. Clint wasn’t expecting that. Natasha normally has more fight in her, she is never one to give up easily. “You’re not leaving, I’m not kicking you out. Okay?” Nat doesn’t move. “Nat, come on. We’re family, families fight,” She gives a subtle nod and his shoulders sag in relief. “I’ll see you both in the morning.” I grab onto the windowsill and try to pull myself off the ground. Natasha turns and quickly offers her arm.<br/>
            “Thank you,” She says nothing and lies down on the bed. I change into my pajamas and join her, our faces inches apart. “Thank you for staying.”<br/>
            “I got to the edge of the property,”<br/>
            “But you came back,”<br/>
            “I shouldn’t have.”<br/>
            “I’m glad you did.” She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She is lost in thought, not in this room right now. “Please talk to me,”<br/>
            “I am scared that he is right, that he is the only one seeing this clearly. Fury pointed it out once, that Clint brought me home like I was a lost puppy, not an assassin,”<br/>
            “I think Clint’s a good judge of character. He is the one who thought I could be an Avenger, even when I was actively trying to kill you all. He is good at seeing people for who they really are, even if the rest of the world can’t see that.” I feel myself getting tired. “You haven’t changed your mind, right? Because of what Cooper said? He was wrong, so wrong.” She hesitates before answering.<br/>
            “No, I haven’t changed my mind.”<br/>
            “And you’re going to be here when I wake up?”<br/>
            “I promise,”<br/>
            “You’re my favorite person,” I close my eyes and feel a steady hand brush my hair away from my face.<br/>
            “You’re my favorite person too,” she breathes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you all liked this chapter! New one will be out tomorrow in Nat's POV!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Parts 1 and 2 are officially done! Meaning this is currently the only live fic! (at least for a few more days!) Thank you all for following along and I hope you have enjoyed Nat and Wanda's journey as much as I have! I still can't believe people are interested in my writing, it is so flattering. Every time I get a new kudos or comment, I am beyond excited!<br/>hope you are all staying safe and are taking care of yourselves! These are scary times! Which means we need all the distractions we can get!<br/>Please enjoy the chapter! The next one should be out by Wednesday! As always, all comments and feedback are appreciated and welcome!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>Natasha- 4 hours ago</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>            “How can you let her hold him?” Cooper yells. I look up from tickling Nate.<br/>
            “What?” Laura looks over at him, confused, just as Clint and Lila reenter the room.<br/>
            “How can you let her hold Nate? How can you let her anywhere near any of us?” No. Oh, no. No. No.<br/>
            “What’s going on?” Clint asks, noticing the tension.<br/>
            “Don’t you know what she’s done? How can you bring her into our house?” Cooper shouts, knocking over his chair. “Do you know what she has done?” He looks to his parents for the truth. They have no option but to give it. It was silly, me living in this fantasy. I could be an aunt, a mother. Anything other than they made me.<br/>
            “Cooper,” Laura breathes. I can almost feel Clint begging his son not to continue. But it is no use.<br/>
            “She used to be an assassin! She has killed hundreds of people! Why would you think it is okay to have her be around us?” It is like a knife to the heart. I remember holding Cooper when he was born. How small and delicate he was. I swore to myself that day to protect him with my life. This newborn baby. He didn’t see me as a killer or a monster, just his Auntie Nat. But that is over now. We can never go back. This game of make believe has ended. I put Nate in his highchair, my hands shaking. This can’t be happening.<br/>
            “Cooper Barton, you will stop talking this instant, so help me God,” How could I have been so naïve? I need to leave. I can’t be around them. I make my way towards the kitchen door and hesitate. I promised Wanda I wouldn’t leave. Cooper’s voice echoes out from the dining room,<br/>
            “I read it all online! It is like she isn’t even human. She’s a monster,”<br/>
             The screen door slams behind me. I run. My bare feet hit the ground, each step cutting into my soles. I can feel rocks embedding themselves into my skin. I fall to the ground at the property line, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My knees press into the sharp dry grass. Beyond the rail fence are open fields that stretch for miles. I could circle back to the farm, take a car. Maybe even the crop duster. But I don’t want to leave.<br/>
            Vision called me last summer, saying that something was wrong with Wanda, that she needed me. I was dubious. But Wanda said it herself. She wants me around, she needs me. It is beyond my comprehension. But I stayed. I forced myself to not run. No matter how awful things got. When I had my throat slit. When my daughter lost her leg because I couldn’t go on a mission. When I went without oxygen for a half hour, drowning in my own blood. But I stayed because Wanda said she needed me. But now, now I should go. What I really am is out in the open, no longer something whispered about behind closed doors. No longer can the reality of the situation be avoided. Only this time, I don’t want to leave. Cooper confirmed my worst fears. That after ten years, I am still nothing more than what they made me. But I don’t want to be alone. A sob escapes me before I can stop it. I can’t cry, I need to figure out my best move. But all I want is to go home to Wanda. I am weak. The agony of this decision threatens to rip me apart from inside. <em>I need you</em>. Wanda’s voice rings in my ears. I need her too.<br/>
            Back at the farmhouse, I climb up the siding into my bedroom as I have done dozens of times. I am not ready to face Cooper, Clint. Any of them. I’ll add cowardice to my list of weaknesses. My head sinks into the pillows and I realize how exhausted I am.<br/>
            I wake up gasping for air. I jump up, falling backwards out of the bed, taking the quilt with me. The blanket twists around me as I push back into the corner. My heart is beating so loudly, I can hear nothing else. I am not there. I am at the farmhouse. The soft quilt envelopes me. I touch my wrists. There are no handcuffs. I wasn’t chained to the bed. I am not there. I am not there.<br/>
            The door to the room opens and I brace myself for a fight. No. I am at the farmhouse. It is probably Clint coming to ask me to leave. For the kids. They aren’t safe around me.<br/>
            “Natasha?” Wanda limps across the room, “You didn’t leave?” No. I couldn’t leave.<br/>
            “I promised you I wouldn’t,” This was a mistake.<br/>
            “You didn’t leave,” she repeats, sitting down next to me. “I can’t believe no one thought to look in the house,”<br/>
            “You looked for me?”<br/>
            “Clint’s been searching for hours,” she explains. Why? I have scared and scarred his son. I have ruined his childhood, his innocence.<br/>
            “Why was he looking for me? I don’t understand,” He should have wanted me gone. It was selfish for me to come back. Why would he seek me out?<br/>
            “He is your best friend.”<br/>
            “He’s a father first,” Before I can stop myself, I am telling Wanda of the first time I met Cooper. It was right after Budapest. He was barely two weeks old.<br/>
            “Nat,” I should have never met him.<br/>
            “I wish I could go back,” I can feel my heart breaking, “I wish I could have never held him. Never thrown myself into their lives. They could be normal.” She says something about how Clint would be dead without me.<br/>
            “He would have made it.” We wouldn’t have been on most of those missions if it wasn’t for me. I was the one who recommended him for the Avenger’s Initiative. He would never have gotten shot when we were getting the tesseract. Hell, if I hadn’t been such a mess after the car accident, if I had been able to handle long term missions, it would have been me guarding it when Loki attacked, not him. He should want me gone. “Has Clint told you when he wants me out by? I know you texted him,” I nod to her cell phone.<br/>
            “He isn’t going to kick you out, Nat.”<br/>
            “Why?”<br/>
            “He wants to know if her can come up.”<br/>
            ‘His house,” I rest my head back on the wall, trying to seem calm. I am anything but. My nightmare still swims in the forefront of my brain. The gunshot into my femur as I lay chained to my bed. Mercy. I had shown another girl mercy. Two strong arms pull me into a hug.<br/>
            “You’re still here,” I feel a flicker of annoyance. Of course, I am still here. Has no one noticed that I haven’t run once in the past year? But this annoyance quickly fades with the realization that I am going to be forced to leave.<br/>
            “I’ll leave. I just couldn’t with Wanda and,” I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I couldn’t really leave at all.<br/>
            “Natasha,” he frowns, “What on Earth are you talking about?” He is crouched down in front of me, his eyebrows knit together.<br/>
            “I need to leave, right?” I look down at the ground, “Cooper knows, he’ll never feel safe around me again. I can’t do that to him.” I can’t do that to any of them. Clint says something else. All I hear is a single fact. Clint told him. I am off the ground quickly, I can feel the cuts on my feet split open once more, the quilt falls off my shoulders.<br/>
            “You told him about the Red Room? You told him about what they did to me?” The knife that Cooper had stabbed in my heart twists.<br/>
            He says some bullshit about what it took for Cooper to understand. To not be afraid. All he did was make the child afraid of the world.<br/>
            “Did it occur to you that I would rather him hate me than know there are people and places like that in this world?” I think of the awful things I have seen, my goal to protect him from any of that horror. From knowing places like the Red Room existed. That people like me existed.<br/>
            “That isn’t your call,”<br/>
            “It’s my past,” I choke out.<br/>
            “He’s my kid,” Clint challenges. I look into his eyes and feel a piece of me break. I can’t fight him anymore. “You’re not leaving, I’m not kicking you out. Okay?” I think of the handcuffs that were around my wrists for so many years, stopping me from escaping into the night. They forgot one night, to lock me in, when I was twelve. One of the other girls was dying from her wounds. I didn’t even run. What does that say about me? That I didn’t escape when I had the chance? “Nat, come on. We’re family, families fight,” Clint pleads, pulling me out of my thoughts. I give him a nod, whatever he needs me to be. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”<br/>
            Out of the corner of my eye, I see Wanda struggling to get off the floor, I quickly help her up before walking over to the bed.<br/>
            “Thank you for staying,”<br/>
            “I got to the edge of the property,” I admit, shame building in my chest. She is looking at me like I hold all the answers in the world, like I mean everything to her.<br/>
            “But you came back,”<br/>
            “I shouldn’t have.” I should have left. I should have let her be free of my toxic orbit. What good have I even been these past few months? I stayed because she said she needed me, but did I do more harm than good?<br/>
            “I’m glad you did,” I smile at her, but my thoughts wander back to my nightmare. The girl dying beside me the night they forgot to lock me in. She was supposed to bleed out the whole night, a slow death. Instead of escaping, I had crawled out of bed and suffocated her with her pillow. Ended her suffering. The crime was twofold. I not only showed mercy but killed without their blessing. I was never to act, to kill, without their direction. I was reprimanded by being given the same wound, a shot to the femur. But I healed. I survived. That was my true punishment. “Please talk to me,”<br/>
            “I am scared that he is right, that he is the only one seeing this clearly,” Just as Madame B did. I have no place in this world, “Fury pointed it out once, that Clint brought me home like I was a lost puppy, not an assassin.” I shouldn’t be telling her this. She is a child; she doesn’t need to hear these thoughts that are inundating my mind.<br/>
            “I think Clint’s a good judge of character. He is the one who thought I could be an Avenger, even when I was actively trying to kill you all. He is good at seeing people for who they really are, even if the rest of the world can’t see that.” Her big eyes blink directly into mine, full of love and trust. “You haven’t changed your mind, right? Because of what Cooper said? He was wrong, so wrong,” How can she still love me? After all I have done? How can she still want me? But I know, I would do anything in my power to keep her safe, to make sure she is happy. If this is what she wants, then I will do whatever it takes to make it happen.<br/>
            “No, I haven’t changed my mind.”<br/>
            “And you’re going to be here when I wake up?” she asks, biting her cheek.<br/>
            “I promise,” And I do. I won’t run.<br/>
            “You’re my favorite person,” she sighs, falling asleep. Despite everything that has happened today, my heart feels full. I brush her hair gently away from her face.<br/>
            “You’re my favorite person too,”</p>
<hr/><p>            I can’t fall asleep. I won’t. I don’t want to be dragged back into that nightmare. I can’t wake up with Wanda sleeping next to me. I could be a fugue state, hurt her. I cannot allow that to happen.<br/>
            “Natasha?”<br/>
            “What are you doing awake? It’s three o’clock.” I admonish hypocritically.<br/>
            “I needed to make sure you were still here,” she murmurs, snuggling back under the covers. Her dark hair is piled above her like a crown. No matter how often I try to get her to pull it back, she always leaves it loose and wild. Unless I do an elaborate braid, somehow those manage to convince her. I find myself smiling and quickly scold myself. I am being irresponsible, being here. I should be long gone. But I am selfish, I am weak. I love her too much to leave. Would it be better for her in the long run? For me to be gone? Would the pain of loss just be temporary? No. I think of her just moments ago, waking up in fear that I was gone. I can never leave her. I could never hurt her like that. I feel sick. I close my eyes, trying to pull myself together. I thought I was doing better, being better. Isn’t that what everyone wanted? Is Cooper, right? I can’t fall apart. I won’t. The room has begun to lighten, dawn fighting its way through the darkness. However, it will still be hours before she can claim victory.<br/>
            There is a kick to my back, uncoordinated and feeble. I roll over, annoyed, about to tell Wanda that there are better ways to make sure I am still here, but see her writhing in pain. Her face is pinched in her sleep, sweat drips from her forehead. Shit. I go over to my suitcase and pull out the orange pill bottle. These are half the dose that she started out with, working her way down. Most nights she doesn’t even need them anymore. Tonight, is not one of those nights. Two paintings fall off the walls as Wanda thrashes, her hands causing mayhem. One of the dresser drawers nearly clips me. She needs to wake up before she hurts herself.<br/>
            “Wanda, honey,” I shake her shoulder gently. Her eyes blink open, glowing red.<br/>
            “Hurts, so bad,” she gasps, her body twisting.<br/>
            “I know,” I hand her the pill and a glass of water. She takes it gratefully, the redness in her eyes fading.<br/>
             “You’re crying,” her eyes widen, “Did I hurt you?” Wanda looks frantically around the room, where items are now scattered about. I didn’t realize I had been crying.<br/>
            “I’m fine, lie back down. Rest,” I rub her back until the sun starts to make its way over the horizon. She falls into a restless slumber, plagued by nightmares. Her sleep is short lived, and she wakes up around seven. The groggy grumpiness that always seems to come with the painkillers is evident on her face. Despite this, she pulls closer, her head nuzzling into my shoulder. I have never felt love like this, and I hate myself for it.<br/>
            “I love you,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against my t-shirt.<br/>
            “I love you too, Little Witch.”<br/>
             “And I’m sorry,” she adds, looking up at me, her eyes large.<br/>
            “What for?”<br/>
            “For making you stay, for guilting you into it.”<br/>
            “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be,” I tell her honestly.<br/>
            “I was so scared you left yesterday, after what Cooper said,” she frowns, “I wanted to kill him.”<br/>
            “I’m glad you didn’t, he’s just a scared kid.”<br/>
            “He shouldn’t be scared of you. It doesn’t make any sense.” I want to tell her it makes complete sense but arguing with her is not how I want to spend the morning. “You’ve never given him a reason to be scared,” she points out. I look down at her, scared she was reading my mind. But the drowsy look in her eyes says otherwise. The smell of bacon floats into the room and Wanda’s stomach growls.<br/>
            “You should eat, go have breakfast.”<br/>
            “Only if you come down,”<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “Please? I am high as a kite on pain killers,” she rolls onto her back, “You have to come.”<br/>
            “I don’t want to upset Cooper,”<br/>
            “He’ll probably be more upset if you don’t come,” She sits up and slides the sock onto her stump, followed by the prosthetic.<br/>
            “You shouldn’t be putting too much weight on your leg; you were in pain all night.”<br/>
            “Then how will I make it down the stairs on my own?” she feigns innocence.<br/>
            “You are so manipulative,”<br/>
            “I learned from the best,” She smiles cheekily, but I can see how tired she is. She would easily fall down the stairs if I don’t help her. My heartbeat picks up as we make our way down the stairs. Wanda breaks away when we reach the bottom, leaning heavily on her cane.<br/>
            “I’ll go grab you crutches from the car,”<br/>
            “Nat, I’m fine,” she shakes her head and makes her way towards the kitchen, sitting down at the table. Clint and Laura stand by the stove and turn around when they hear us. The kids must still be asleep.<br/>
            “Natasha,” Laura sighs with relief and pulls me into a hug, “I am so sorry, so unbelievably sorry.”<br/>
                        “It’s okay, he was bound to find out eventually.” I pour myself a cup of coffee from the carafe. “Are the pool guys coming today?”          <br/>
            “Natasha, we really should talk about this,” she says gently.<br/>
            “We don’t have to, I’m fine.” I sip my coffee, trying to hide how upset I really am. That I never slept last night. That all I could think about was that I have destroyed the trust of someone who means the world to me and destroyed his innocence far too soon. When I wasn’t thinking about Wanda and the Bartons, I was haunted by the Red Room.<br/>
            Wanda is scrolling through her phone, half asleep. I pour her a cup of coffee as well.<br/>
            “You okay?” I ask quietly. She nods, her eyes mostly closed. Laura and Clint look over at her, concerned.<br/>
            “Rough night,” she explains, raising the mug to her lips. I just did the same thing, the same tactic. She hates the pain meds more than she hates her wheelchair. Clint places pancakes and bacon in front of her. She smiles weakly in thanks and begins to pick at the food halfheartedly.<br/>
            “I was thinking we could go grocery shopping,” I look to Laura. Her eyes widen in surprise.<br/>
            “Sure, we can go after breakfast,” Her smile grows.<br/>
            “I’m going to go lie on the couch,” Wanda limps into the sunroom, abandoning her breakfast.<br/>
            “Is she okay?” Laura asks, sipping her tea.<br/>
            “She had to take some meds around four, they should wear off in an hour or two.” I explain, my eyes drifting to the stairs, waiting for the kids to come down. The grandfather clock chimes eight and there are feet thundering on the stairs. I can hear Nate through the baby monitor. Laura passes the kids as they enter the kitchen, on her way to grab the baby.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat! You’re here! Wanda said you would come back,” Lila hops up onto my lap. She places a hand on my cheek. Her pink fingernail polish is chipped. “I’m so glad you didn’t leave.”<br/>
            “Lila, let’s give her some space, huh?” Clint suggests, placing a plate of pancakes in front of her usual spot. Cooper hovers in the archway and I feel my heart ache. I should leave, head back to the apartment or the compound.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat, can I talk to you outside?” Cooper asks, scuffing his shoe on the ground.<br/>
            “Of course,” I look to Clint who shrugs. We sit down on the back-porch steps. It is just starting to warm up, the morning dew still glistens on the grass. Songbirds are chirping and I spot a rabbit darting through the yard.<br/>
            “I’m sorry,”<br/>
            “You don’t have to be,”<br/>
             “No, I do. I was mean.”<br/>
            “You were scared,”<br/>
            “Yes,” he admits, “But I didn’t know. It must have been hard, having to do things that you knew were wrong.”<br/>
             “It was awful.” I concede, not giving away anything else.<br/>
            “Is it true that I helped you? When I was a baby?”<br/>
            “Oh yes,” I smile, turning to face him, “You were like a magic spell. It was amazing. Nothing could have prepared me for how much I loved you, just instantly. The little curl that swept down onto your forehead, and your tiny little feet. And your eyes, always following me around the room. I knew as soon as we met, that I had to make the world a better place for you. Nothing was going to stop me from making that happen.”<br/>
            “Really?”<br/>
            “Really, really.” I stick out my hand, “Pinky swear,” He latches his finger around mine.<br/>
            “If I have any questions, will you answer them?”<br/>
            “I’ll do my best,” I tell him truthfully. “Do you have some you want to ask?”<br/>
             “Not right now, but I might later,” he rests his head on my lap. “I’m really sorry for everything I said. I was wrong, I didn’t know.” He turns to look at me, “The world is lucky to have you, Auntie Nat. We’re lucky to have you.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay there is a lot to unpack in this chapter! I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you again for following along!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>****Trigger warning for PTSD and somewhat graphic depictions of violence****</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay everyone, get ready! This chapter is almost 3x as long as my usual chapters (And is a bit dark)! Quarantine has given me a lot of free time! I was going to split it in two but I like the way it flowed so here we are- more than 6,000 words! Lol<br/>I hope you are all staying safe! Thank you so much for following along, any comments I get honestly make my day! Special shout out to my frequent comenters, I am always so excited to read what you thought!!<br/>Please enjoy this very long chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Something, someone, lands on my stomach.<br/>
            “Ugh,” I open my eyes to see Lila on top of me.<br/>
            “Do you want to play Barbies?” she asks, holding the blonde close to my face. I feel her weight disappear as Laura pulls her off of me.<br/>
            “Wanda isn’t feeling well, maybe in a little while, okay?” She places Lila back on the ground. Natasha sits down next to me. She looks better than she did last night, but not by much. I am sure I am not looking too hot myself right now. I hate this feeling.<br/>
            “Laura and I are making a quick run to the grocery store; do you want anything?”<br/>
            “No thanks,” I murmur, hugging my arms close to my chest.<br/>
            “I’ll only be gone an hour, two at the most, okay?” I nod, rubbing my eyes. Everything is fuzzy, like a bad TV signal. I wish I hadn’t taken the pills, but the pain was so intense. I agreed before I thought about the ramifications.<br/>
            “Wanda, we’re heading outside if you want to come,” Clint offers, hovering by the couch.<br/>
            “Is this an invitation or an order?” I ask sullenly.<br/>
            “Invitation, you’re welcome to stay inside. But it is nice out, not too hot.” I pull myself off the couch and follow him out.<br/>
            He keeps pace with me as the kids run ahead towards a large oak tree a few hundred feet away.<br/>
            “I’m sorry about yesterday,” I don’t want to talk about it.<br/>
            “It wasn’t your fault,”<br/>
            “I should have started having that conversation with him a long time ago. Finding it on the internet without any context was not ideal. I’ll do better with Lila,” he promises.<br/>
            “She already knows.” We get closer to the tree.<br/>
            “What? Wanda wait, stop.”<br/>
            “She told me last night. She’s known since last summer.”<br/>
            “She never said anything.”<br/>
            “Lila said it doesn’t matter, she knows Natasha would never do anything to hurt her.” Clint lays out the blanket and I sit down, taking off my leg.<br/>
            “You can take it off?” Lila exclaims, jumping down from the tree. “That’s so cool,”<br/>
            “Honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner that you knew about Aunty Nat?”<br/>
            “Because it doesn’t change the fact that she’s Auntie Nat, duh,” she looks at her father like he has three heads. “Climb the tree with me,” she pulls Clint off the ground. I massage my limb, though the pain medicine is doing an excellent job. At least its good for something.<br/>
             “Why are you rubbing your leg?”<br/>
            “Helps with circulation and swelling,” Cooper sits down next to me, his knees up to his chest. I still haven’t forgiven him for last night, for hurting Natasha like that.<br/>
            “Was it scary? Losing your leg?”<br/>
            “I didn’t know I had lost it until a few days after it was already gone.” I look at the scar wrapping around the bottom of my stump.<br/>
            “I’m sorry about yesterday, it wasn’t fair to you or Auntie Nat. But I know now it wasn’t her fault that she did those things,” He rests his chin on his knees.<br/>
            “You aren’t scared of her anymore?”<br/>
            “No. I’m just sad that any of that stuff happened to her.” He gives me a sad smile. How could he be so okay with? He only found out twelve hours ago. It took me weeks, months, to finally relax around her again. And I can defend myself. This helpless kid is already okay with it. “Can I ask you a question?”<br/>
            “Is it about my leg?” I look over at him. He nods.  “Then no.” I lie back on the blanket, but feel guilty for being so short with him, “Another time, okay? I’m on some medicine that doesn’t make me feel too good.”<br/>
            Clint and Lila climb down from the tree while Nate continues to collect acorns. Lila and Cooper begin to play catch with a baseball while Clint joins me once more on the ground.<br/>
             “Wanda,” he whispers. “Your hands are glowing.” I look down and see he is right. My clenched fists are starting to pulse red. The drugs are making me careless. “Are you okay?”<br/>
            “I don’t like how the meds make me feel,” I mutter, unclenching my hands. I concentrate on letting my powers fade. He nods sympathetically, but he doesn’t understand, not really. The only one who might get it is Nat, but I can’t bring this up to her. Not when she’s dealing with the fallout of what Cooper said to her. She had the same look on her face as she had when I told her we weren’t family. The sky begins to darken.<br/>
            “Alright kids, let’s head inside. Looks like a rainstorm is coming,” Clint scoops up Nate. The sky darkens quickly, and we make our way inside. There is a flash of lightning and I stop in my tracks, despite the rain beginning to pour down.<br/>
            “Wanda, what are you doing?” I stare at the sky, counting the seconds. Lightning strikes again. Twenty seconds. Clint touches my shoulder. “Come on inside,”<br/>
             “I’m sorry, I had to count the seconds,” and I realize that I must sound crazy.<br/>
            “To know how far away the storm is?” Cooper asks. I nod in response, a lie, and sit down on the couch.<br/>
            “I have to go give this little goober a bath, you guys put on a movie or something. Make some popcorn.” Clint carries Nate upstairs and Cooper goes to make popcorn.<br/>
            “What do you want to watch?” I ask, flipping through various streaming platforms. I can feel the drugs wearing off.<br/>
            “A Disney movie,” Lila replies, snuggling up next to me. I pick Snow White, one of the few Disney films I saw as a child. Beauty and the Beast was another, but I can’t stand it now.<br/>
            “We aren’t allowed to watch that,” Cooper walks in with the popcorn.<br/>
            “Why? The Evil Stepmother isn’t very scary,”<br/>
            “Auntie Nat doesn’t like it,” Lila explains.<br/>
            “Nat doesn’t have to watch it, and she’s not home. I’m sure its fine.” I press play, having to try a few times. The remote batteries are about to die. Fifteen minutes in and Lila is enrapt by the birds and deer helping clean. Cooper continues to glance nervously at the stairs, waiting for Clint to come down. “I’m sure its fine, he probably just thought it would scare you guys,” I lean back on the couch, just about ready to dose off. I hear feet coming down the stairs and the front door unlocking at the same time.<br/>
            The door opens and Natasha and Laura walk in with the groceries, laughing about something. I turn and see them enter the room, but the laughter stops instantly. Natasha’s groceries drop to the ground. Clint turns the corner to the living room, his eyes landing on Natasha, then swinging towards the TV. He dives forward, snagging the remote from my hand. He lands on my leg and I yelp in pain. He doesn’t even notice. The remote isn’t working. With desperation, he grabs the TV and pulls it off the wall.<br/>
            “Dad?” Cooper asks, his voice rising. I notice Clint isn’t wearing his hearing aids and Lila is no longer next to me.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat?” I turn and see Lila standing the other side of the couch. Laura is crouched in front of Nat, her back to the rest of us.<br/>
            “Clint get them out of here,” Laura hisses. But Clint isn’t wearing his hearing aids. Clint bends down next to Laura. “Clint!” she says again. He is focused on Natasha, not noticing his wife’s lips moving. “Cooper, take your sister upstairs, now!” Cooper hurries off the couch and drags Lila behind him. I expect to see Natasha having a flashback when I get off the couch, similar to the Nutcracker incident, but instead I find her cowering on the ground. She is shaking uncontrollably, her hands covering her ears. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she mutters to herself in Russian. I feel sick. This had something to do with the movie. The movie that the kids aren’t allowed to watch. Because Natasha doesn’t like it. But it is much more than that. It could be a trigger for being a sleeper agent. I hadn’t seen that barrier built in her mind, but I could have missed it. Oh God. What did I do?<br/>
            “I’m going to go make some tea,” Laura stands up.<br/>
            “Natasha,” Clint tries to take her hands away from her ears. She resists with remarkable strength. What did I do to her? How could a few seconds of a movie reduce her to being entirely helpless, powerless? She continues to mutter in Russian under her breath, I can’t make out any words, and I am too scared to get any closer. <em>Fuck</em>. Did I never really get over it? But I realize I’m not scared of her; I’m scare for her. “Natalia,” Clint tries. I had never heard anyone call her by her original name. It makes it worse. What did I do? How could I do this to her again? Why couldn’t I listen to one stupid rule? I can’t go in and try to bring her out of her thoughts. Clint begins whispering to her, quiet enough that I can’t hear. Her muttering stops.<br/>
            “Eto konets?” <em>Is it over?</em> Clint frowns, unable to read her lips.<br/>
            “Konets,” I speak up. My heart pounding. Her eyes blink open, staring directly at me, her eyes blank and dull like sea glass. She removes her hands from her ears. I can’t tell what she is thinking. If she has been woken up as a sleeper agent or is just Natasha. Her eyebrows knit together, and her gaze moves to Clint, and then back to me. “Nat?” I ask quietly. Laura comes out with a mug of tea. It has felt like hours, but I realize now it hasn’t even been five minutes since they walked in. Laura hands Natasha the mug of tea, but beyond holding it, she does nothing else. I step forward and kneel down in front of her. Clint and Laura stiffen on either side of me.<br/>
            “Wanda, you should be upstairs,” Laura begins. I think of what I did before, showing her how safe I feel when she is around. I didn’t know until then that I could share my own memories, nor attach emotions to them. I show her the same series of shortened memories, all with the same feel of safety and love. The memory ends and she stares at me.<br/>
            “Malen'kaya Ved'ma?” <em>Little Witch</em>.<br/>
            “Eto ya,” <em>It’s me</em>. She looks down at her mug, putting it down next to her, and then to Clint and Laura. She stands up, helping me up off the floor as well. Her eyes drift to the groceries. Clint tries to guide her over to the couch, but she grabs onto my hand, taking me with her. The grip is vice-like. The lifeline squeeze, but she doesn’t let go. It occurs to me now, as she trembles, that this squeeze isn’t meant to just comfort me. I think of all the times she has grabbed my hand when I was okay. This is her letting me know she isn’t. Maybe even subconsciously. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Clint finish signing something to Laura before running upstairs. I don’t know what I can do for her right now. She stares at the TV on the ground. Half of the back is missing, still attached to the wall.<br/>
            “Wanda, do not go in her head right now,” Clint commands, running back down the stairs. I blink, and feel my powers pulsing in my eyes. I hadn’t even realized. Laura places the still steaming mug on the coffee table.<br/>
            “I’m going to go check on the kids,” Laura says quietly, meaning Clint went to grab his hearing aids when he ran upstairs.<br/>
            “Natasha, come on. You’re safe. You aren’t there.” He sits down on the table, sliding the mug to the side. “You’re safe. I promise.” Natasha’s grip tightens. She stares at Clint. “You’re okay, the movie is off. You didn’t hurt anyone,” The stiffness in her posture lessens. “You’re at the farm,”<br/>
            “Red Room?” she asks after a few moments.<br/>
             “Gone, disbanded. We took them down, remember?”<br/>
            “Yes, right. And Yelena,” She nods. I think of the secret I carry, that the Red Room wasn’t truly taken down until late 2013, not 2007 like she thinks. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t,” She looks at the TV. “I couldn’t,”  <br/>
            “I know.” Clint rests a hand on her knee. She looks over at me, and I quickly wipe any fear I have had off my face, knowing she will misinterpret it. I don’t think I am fast enough. She looks down at our hands and pulls hers away. There are indents on my hand in bright red where hers held tight.<br/>
            “I should put away the groceries,” she states, pulling herself off the couch.<br/>
            “I am going to go let Laura know everything is okay,” Clint gives me a quick look that definitely means we will be having a talk. I grab one of the grocery bags off the floor with my free hand and follow Natasha to the kitchen.<br/>
            “I’m sorry, I didn’t think, when the kids said they weren’t allowed to watch it,”<br/>
            “You didn’t know.” She closes the freezer.<br/>
            “What happened?” I see her pressing two fingers into the crook of her elbow, as if she is checking for something. She takes a sip of her tea and continues to put away groceries. I beginning to think I won’t get an answer when she speaks.<br/>
            “It is how they brain washed us, in the Red Room.”<br/>
            “With Snow White?” She stiffens and nods, resting against the fridge for a moment before continuing her task.       <br/>
            “They put hidden words in the film, they would flash by so fast that we couldn’t see them, but our subconscious did.” She thought she was back in the Red Room, I did that. “I’m sorry I scared you,” she whispers, “I didn’t know where I was,” her voice is delicate, “I recognized you, I knew who you were.” She puts the last of the groceries in the pantry. “I really am trying, I promise.” She rushes out of the room before I can reply. Clint comes in a few minutes later.<br/>
            “You and Nat talked?” he looks at me.<br/>
            “I’m sorry, I disobeyed your rule while staying in your house.”<br/>
            “‘Because Auntie Nat doesn’t like it’ is enough of a justification for little kids, but I guess it wouldn’t be for you.” He pulls a water from the fridge. “When Natasha feels ready, when she feels you’re ready, she’ll share stuff with you. Don’t push her, okay?” he gives me a small smile, tinged with pain. “Nat really loves you, her not sharing with you doesn’t mean she doesn’t trust you.”<br/>
            “I am really sorry,”<br/>
             “We both learned a lot today, and its not even lunch time,” he sighs, “I learned I can not read Nat’s lips when she speaks Russian.”<br/>
            “How can I keep causing her so much pain? I don’t do it on purpose.”<br/>
            “I know you don’t.”<br/>
            Natasha comes down a few hours later looking more like herself. She helps Laura in the kitchen while I am put on children wrangling duties. Clint is on a phone call with Tony outside.<br/>
            “Wanda, can you make my Ironman fly?” Cooper asks, holding his action figure. I nod and happily float his action figure in the air. Lila demands I do her Ariel doll next. Finally, we are called in for dinner. I am exhausted. It has only been twenty-four hours since Cooper said those terrible things to Natasha. I look at the food on the table and then to Nat. She smiles at me, her eyes kind. Why is she apologizing to me? After all she has gone through since we arrived. Pierogis and sausage with sautéed onions.<br/>
             “Thank you,”<br/>
            “I thought you could use a pick-me-up,” she says quietly, sitting down next to me, “I know you don’t like being on the pain medicine. But you’re getting there, you will get there.” She reaches to squeeze my hand but stops herself and picks up her fork instead.<br/>
            “Potato stuffed pasta is amazing!” Lila exclaims. “It is mashed potatoes and ravioli! It is genius,”<br/>
            “I’m glad you like it,” I laugh, “It was Pietro’s favorite food.”<br/>
            “What’s <em>your</em> favorite food?” Cooper asks.<br/>
            “Peanut butter sandwiches,” I reply without hesitation. I can feel Natasha staring at me, “I love pierogis too though!”<br/>
            After dinner, I head upstairs and get ready for bed. All I want to do is sleep. The shower washes away the day, but I still can’t get the fact that I caused further trauma for Nat out of my head. I stand up from the stool and turn off the shower. My crutches are in the bathroom, leaning against the wall. Meaning Natasha snuck in and out of here while I was in the shower. I step into the bedroom in my pajamas, only to see her and Clint arguing. They pause when they see me.<br/>
            “Hey,” Natasha smiles and look over at me. “How was your shower?”<br/>
            “Good,” I frown.<br/>
            “I’m going to go say goodnight to the kids.” Clint hurries out of the room.<br/>
            “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”<br/>
            “Yes, fine. Sit down,” she pats the spot next to her on the bed.<br/>
            “You said you’d tell me if things weren’t fine,” I remind her as she begins to braid my wet hair.<br/>
            “I will,” she replies, her fingers moving quickly. That’s a lie. Two wet ropes thwap against my back. She holds up a mirror from one of the nightstands. Two French fishtail braids. “However, I do have to ask you to sleep in the guest room tonight,”<br/>
            “Okay, why?” my frown deepens.<br/>
            “I have to work a case and I don’t want to keep you up.”<br/>
            “I can help you,”<br/>
            “No, you didn’t sleep well last night, you need your rest,” She walks me to my bedroom and places my leg next to the side table, along with a glass of water and the painkillers. I won’t be touching those tonight, no matter how bad the pain gets. “Wanda, please.” She sees me glaring at the orange container. “If you’re in pain, take them.”<br/>
             “Fine,” I sigh. It seems as though we are lying to each other tonight. Natasha doesn’t notice. Something is definitely up.<br/>
            “I’m really sorry, Nat.”<br/>
            “I am fine, Wanda. Don’t worry. I bounce back quickly.” She bends down and kisses my forehead. I’m surprised by such other outward show of affection. Entirely out of character. Like she is overcompensating, like when she gives too much praise. She turns off the light and leaves the room.<br/>
            I toss and turn all night, unable to escape the pain in my leg. I try elevating it and rubbing it. The pain meds are right there, but I can’t do it. I can’t put myself through it. No matter how bad the pain in my leg is, that is worse.<br/>
            I am awake all night, and for the first time that I can remember, Natasha doesn’t come in to check on me.</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
            The sun shines through the windows, bathing the room in a buttery warmth. I drag myself out of bed and put on my leg before heading into the hall. Clint is coming out of Natasha’s room at the same time.<br/>
            “She wanted to go over some case stuff,” he explains, “We’re doing cereal for breakfast this morning, is that cool with you?” I nod. He walks behind me as we go down the stairs. My faith in the fact that these stairs will not be the death of me has increased immeasurably since we arrived. In the kitchen, Clint sets cereals and milk out on the table. We are soon joined by the rest of the household, including Natasha.<br/>
            “You know, Clint, when you run a bed and breakfast, you’re supposed to serve better than cereal.” Natasha jokes. The kids laugh, and Laura forces out a smile, but Clint’s face remains stony. Natasha meets his gaze with fire, this time unyielding. After a few moments of tension, Clint concedes and sits down at the table with his coffee.<br/>
            The men come to dig the hole for the pool today and work efficiently. Laura and the kids leave to visit her parents. A trip Cooper claims we are lucky to not be a part of.<br/>
            “Her parents don’t like that I am an Avenger, or Natasha.” Clint explains to me.<br/>
            “To clarify, they don’t care that I am an Avenger, they just don’t like me,” Nat rolls her eyes.<br/>
            “At our wedding,”<br/>
            “Let’s not share that story,” Natasha laughs. “I did get an email from Chad early this morning,” she looks over at me, “Physical therapy exercises for you to do while we’re here,”<br/>
            “Did he say who’s house he’s going to for The Fourth?”<br/>
            “He said Mindy’s, I don’t know what the means though,”<br/>
            “It’s a good thing,” I assure her. “What isn’t is that he included exercises in that update.” <br/>
            “I’ll make a deal with you; we do something fun before PT.” Her grin is the same as when she suggests we have ice cream for dinner.<br/>
            “Okay,” I agree hesitantly.<br/>
            Which is how I end up behind the wheel of Clint’s pickup truck. My hands sweat as I hold tight to the wheel.<br/>
            “I don’t know about this, Nat.” I look over at her.<br/>
            “It’s an automatic, it’ll be easy.” She puts her feet up on the dash, “Clint is such a baby, getting an automatic truck!” She calls out the open window. Clint pauses baling hay to flip her off. “Okay, now it is just like before. Put your right foot on the break and turn the key.”<br/>
            “I don’t have a right foot.”<br/>
            “Yes you do,” she nods, “Have a little faith in yourself,” I put down pressure on the break and twist the key in the ignition. The truck roars to life. “Okay, now put the car in drive and press your foot on the gas.”<br/>
            “Isn’t that enough for one day?”<br/>
            “There is an emergency break in the center console if we need it. That’s why we’re driving this car and not the rental.”<br/>
            “Okay,” I agree hesitantly. The truck jolts forward and I nearly give us both whiplash. “Less pressure, I got it!” I snap.<br/>
            “I didn’t say anything,”<br/>
            “You were thinking it!”<br/>
            “No, I wasn’t,” she smiles, “For a mind reader, you should be better at knowing what I’m thinking.” The truck rolls forward. I feel my heartbeat racing as we pick up speed, no longer rolling, but driving. We pull off the half mile dirt driveway and onto the street. The pavement is smooth against the tires. Excitement bubbles over, the freedom of being able to drive again has me beaming.<br/>
            “Mom! Are you seeing this? I am actually driving!” I look over at her.<br/>
            “Eyes on the road,” she answers, but not before I see she is smiling nearly as much as me. We reach the end of the road and turn around, heading back to the farm. I put the car in park and lean back in the seat.<br/>
            “Thank you, I didn’t know how badly I needed that,”<br/>
             “Cars give us a sense of control, a feeling of freedom. I understand that better than anybody.” She does the same thing she did at dinner last night, going to grab my hand but pulling away. I don’t let her, I grab it. She looks down.<br/>
            “I scared you, again.”<br/>
            “No, I was scared for you. There’s a difference.” She nods, squeezing my hand back quickly before pulling away.<br/>
            “We should get started on PT.”</p><p>            I lie down with an icepack after physical therapy. I keep a blanket pulled over my leg, hiding it.<br/>
            “Can I take a look?” Natasha asks, sitting down on the couch.<br/>
            “I would rather you didn’t.”<br/>
            “Wanda,” she warns.<br/>
            “Really, I’m just cold.”<br/>
            “You’re sweating,” she pulls off the blanket. A large bruise covers the bottom half of my stump. “Jesus, what happened?” I look down at my hands. “Wanda, now.”<br/>
            “I’m fine,”<br/>
             “What happened?” she repeats, her tone takes on an edge.<br/>
            “It was yesterday,”<br/>
            “I’m listening,”<br/>
            “Clint was trying to turn off the TV, he jumped to grab the remote and landed on my leg. Don’t be mad at him.” I bite my cheek; it was my fault anyway.<br/>
            “You could have said something before we practiced driving <em>and</em> physical therapy.”<br/>
            “I didn’t want you to worry!”<br/>
            “Well now I am,” she huffs, “Are you in pain? More than aching?”<br/>
            “No,” I lie. She seems less convinced than she was last night, but the front door bursts open with the kids flying into the room.<br/>
            “We picked up stuff for grilled chicken!” Lila exclaims, like it is the most exciting thing in the world. Natasha laughs and picks Lila up.<br/>
            “Are you sure your mom didn’t mean grilled Chickadee?” she tickles the little girl’s stomach and squeals of laughter fill the room.<br/>
            “Are you okay?” Cooper looks down at the ice pack that is covering my leg, thankfully hiding the bruise.<br/>
            “Just resting after physical therapy. Nat worked me like a horse.”<br/>
            As we eat dinner, my leg begins to throb, becoming a distraction. My mouth tastes like stomach acid.<br/>
            “Wanda? What did you think?” I look up from my plate, over at Laura. She and everyone else at the table is looking at me expectantly.<br/>
            “Think of what?”<br/>
            “Driving again,” Laura says gently.<br/>
            “Oh, it was great. I loved it,” I can say this honestly. I take a sip of my water trying to calm myself, but it comes away bloody. I had been biting my cheeks so hard they bled. Lila stares at the cup. I feel lightheaded.<br/>
            “Okay, let’s get you upstairs,” Natasha says softly. I don’t have the energy to argue. We are in the guest room, my leg propped up. I don’t even remember going up the stairs. “You look like you haven’t slept in days,” she scolds softly. I avoid her eyes. “Really? Honey, there is no shame in taking medicine when you’re in pain. No one would think less of you for it.” She holds out the pills and a water bottle.<br/>
            “I don’t want it,” I cry. But I am in so much pain. I turn to the side, curling into the fetal position.<br/>
            “Please, please take it for me. I can’t stand to see you in pain like this Little Witch,” she pleads. I look up at her, her long red hair hangs over her shoulder. I nod and take the two bottles, grabbing two pills and a sip of water.<br/>
            “Can I stay with you tonight?” I ask between ragged breaths.<br/>
            “I have to work late again tonight, and you really need to sleep.” She brushes my hair back from my face. The pain begins to slip away. We head into her en-suite, the only shower big enough for a chair for me to sit on. My shower is lazy, I don’t bother washing my hair, and quickly dry off. Natasha knocks on the door. “Do you need help?”<br/>
            “I’ve got it,” I pull open the door. My head is cloudy. She helps me back to the guest room where I lie down on the bed. Tears are pouring down my cheeks, but I don’t care. I want it to go away.<br/>
            “I’ll stay right here until you fall asleep, okay?” she soothes, rubbing my back. And I drift off.<br/>
            I wake up drenched in sweat, my heart racing. The faces of the two men burn themselves into the forefront of my mind. The first two people I killed. Two scientists. It was by mistake. I reach over for Natasha, she isn’t there. The guest room, I’m sleeping in the guest room. My thoughts are foggy and slow. I’m scared and alone, I don’t want to be alone. I sit up carefully, my head spinning, and pull on my leg. It is one o’clock. Natasha will probably still be up. When I stumble into the hallway, the only light comes from a heart shaped nightlight on the wall. Nothing shines from the crack beneath Natasha’s door. She said she would be working all night. I crack open the door and see her asleep. But her hands are above her head at an odd angle. I turn on my phone’s flashlight. She is handcuffed to the bed. Who did this? Are we being attacked? Was she drugged?<br/>
            “Natasha,” I rush forward, waking her up. Her eyes widen in panic, but she isn’t seeing me. Something happened. I need to get Clint. Oh God, the kids. Someone could have hurt the kids. I try to make my limbs move as quickly as my thoughts, but it is like there is a time delay.<br/>
            “Wanda?” her voice rings out into the darkness, wary and unsure.<br/>
            “Nat, who cuffed you to the bed? What happened?”<br/>
            “Clint did,” she blinks away sleep. Why would Clint handcuff her? He was under Loki’s control before. Could it have come back? I spot a pair of keys on top of the dresser and sit down on the bed, unlocking her.                                                        <br/>
             “We need to get the kids out of the house, if Clint is under Loki’s control, I can undo it.”<br/>
            “Wanda, I asked him to handcuff me.” I turn on the bedside lamp, confused.<br/>
            “Why would you ask him to do that?” Her chest and cheeks burn bright red.<br/>
            “I have been having flashbacks again, it’s better to be safe,” she says clinically, devoid of emotion.<br/>
            “But why the handcuffs?” Her expression is one I know all too well, having worn it innumerable times myself: Shame.<br/>
            “This is how they kept us in the Red Room at night. To make sure we didn’t kill each other or try to escape. Not that any of us would.” It hurts to know that she means no one would try to escape, not that they wouldn’t kill each other.<br/>
            “But why were you wearing them tonight? Is that why you didn’t check on me last night?” I try to piece everything together. It is impossible. I hate it. I drag my fingers through my hair in frustration. <br/>
            “What are you doing up?” Natasha asks, “You should be asleep, you need to rest.”<br/>
            “I had a nightmare,” I gulp, “It was of the first person, people, I killed.” Natasha’s eyes soften in understanding.<br/>
            “You’ve never talked about it.”<br/>
            “It was terrible and violent,” I hug my arms against my body, my eyes pooling with tears. “I was thirteen, they had spent the past six months experimenting on Pietro and I. The others died one by one until we were the only two left. They came to run another test on me. To take my bone marrow. I was already so sore; I didn’t want them to do it. I didn’t know I had powers when I put my hands out in front of me. One of them flew back against the wall, his head cracking on the bricks. The other ran forward to try and restrain me, and I pulled my hands into my chest, not wanting to hurt anyone else. Instead,” I pause, choking on my words, “Instead, I snapped his neck so hard his head was hanging off, only holding on by the skin on his lef side.” I can see it so clearly, like I am still there.<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “Pietro said they kept me in some drugged induced haze for a year. Just enough to test out the bare minimums of my powers. I don’t remember any of it. An entire year of my life just missing, gone.” I shake my head. “Finally, they started weaning me off of them to test the limits of my powers. I could think again. It came back slowly. My name. Pietro. Where we were. But everything was cloudy and fuzzy. Like what the painkillers make me feel like.” Natasha says something but all I can see is Strucker’s cage. “They drugged Pietro too, but not so much. He wasn’t a danger the way I was. The way I am. They kept me on the drugs until I was fifteen, only taking me off when you took down Hydra. Or I think I was off the drugs. I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I remember things clearer. They kept a port taped to our right hands. It was like coming out from under water. Even if though they kept me in a cage, I felt free. They told me they wanted revenge against Tony Stark, the same as I did. That they were helping me. That what they had done was for the best. I couldn’t disagree with them, not after the last clear memory I had was killing two people.” I close my eyes. “I barely remember Tony being there, letting him take the tesseract.”<br/>
            “It’s okay,” she murmurs. I shake my head, rocking back and forth.<br/>
            “It’s not. I don’t know,” I bang my hands against my head, trying to clear my thoughts, “The pills. I am not there, I know that. But my head doesn’t know that.” I’m not making sense. “I can’t think!” I groan. Natasha pulls me into a hug, pinning my arms at my side. Nothing is making sense. Was she even really handcuffed to her bed? Did I imagine that? Why is it so much worse? I took two pills. It like when I first got my leg amputated. When everything was out of focus, slow. Like being experimented on. Treated like a lab rat. Less than human. The crushed in skull of the first scientist flashes in front of me, I can see the other standing in the corner of the room, his head hanging off. Blood drips onto the hardwood. “Make them go away, I don’t want them here.”<br/>
            “Who?” Natasha asks quietly. “There is no one else here.”<br/>
            “No, they are here, they are,” I argue. I try to twist in her arms to get a better view.<br/>
            “Just look at me, okay?” she encourages. “Don’t look at anything else in the room, just me,” I do as she asks, each breath I take is quick and shallow.<br/>
            “I don’t want them here,” I can feel tears pouring out once more as I lie on my side to face her. “I don’t want to see them. I want them, I want it all to all go away.” How are they even here? Its been almost five years, we are on a different continent. It doesn’t make any sense.<br/>
            “Just focus on me, there is no one else here, just you and me.” I shake my head, my eyes drifting above her. “No, Little Witch, look at me.” I do as she says. “I love you so much,” her hands combs through my hair. “Do you remember that time I went to get waffles for us at three o’clock in the morning?” I nod. “I had to go to four different diners to get them. The first place’s waffle maker broke. The second was closed. The third didn’t have waffles. And honestly, pancakes just didn’t seem like they fit our need at the moment.” She smiles. “Do you want to hear a story of when I first arrived at SHIELD?” I nod sleepily, “The first thing I bought, the first decision I made. It was a used Porsche Spyder. Clint thought it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Instead of buying furniture for my apartment, the reason for the money, I bought this beat up car. I loved that car.” Her fingers continue to run through my hair, her bright green eyes staring at me. I can feel myself drifting off. “That car, though it seems trivial and materialistic, was the first time I ever felt like I could have control over my life. Choosing to go with Clint, that wasn’t really a choice, that was saving myself. But that car, buying the car was a true choice. It showed me I could do things without someone else’s permission. It was the most important choice I had even made in my life for nearly ten years. Until I made the decision to allow myself to love you,” I close my eyes, smiling. “Being your mother is the best decision, the best choice, I have ever made. I would make it a thousand times over,” I snuggle closer to her chest, feeling her steady heartbeat. My anxieties have melted away, I know longer feel the death of others looming over me. I no longer feel like a killer, a monster. An abomination. Instead, I feel safe. I feel loved.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay so a lot happened here! I know! They are both really struggling. However, neither are new issues. They are more things that they have been pushing down and into the back corners of their minds until they couldn't hide it any longer. I got teary eyed 2X writing it!<br/>Also, if you look closely in the CAWS end credit scene, you can see the IV ports in Wanda and Pietro’s hands! It’s where I got the idea!!<br/>As always, comments and feedback are appreciated! Thank you and stay safe!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>***General trigger warning for a pretty dark chapter****</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay, I lost this chapter and had to rewrite it!<br/>Things are getting pretty serious, starting tomorrow I am officially working from home, trading in my suits for sweats! But in all seriousness, the world is a terrifying place right now. I hope my story can serve as a break and distraction from all of that. If you have anything you would like me to integrate into the story, please let me know. My social calendar has officially been shut down, so I have plenty of free time lol.<br/>Hope you enjoy!<br/>P.S. So sad that Black Widow has been delayed!! :(</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            She wakes up screaming. I try to soothe her as quickly as possible, but the door to my bedroom bursts open. Clint runs in, wearing only boxers, with his gun drawn. Laura must have alerted him. The kids will be up as well. I can hear Nate wailing down the hall.<br/>
            “What happened?” Clint asks after assessing that there is no immediate danger. I switch on the light. Wanda is rocking back and forth, her eyes focused on something I can’t see. I continue to rub her back, trying to get to calm down. Tears stream down her cheeks.<br/>
            “She came in a few hours ago,” I look to see if he put in his hearing aids before running into the potential battle, he did.<br/>
            “So, she found you chained and just fell apart?” he looks at me doubtfully.<br/>
            “No,” I bite my lip, “This is all my fault. I didn’t know,”<br/>
            “Did you hurt her?” he asks gently.<br/>
            “No!” I snap. I quickly look to Wanda, but she hasn’t reacted. I switch to signing, “I mean yes, I did. I didn’t know about the lab, about the drugs.”<br/>
            “I don’t understand,”<br/>
            “The pain medicine, it’s similar to what Strucker used when she was being experimented on.” Pain medicine I forced her to take. “We’re leaving in the morning.”<br/>
            “Natasha, she can’t go on a plane right now. And she shouldn’t be in a crowded city either. This is really the best place for her,”<br/>
            “That isn’t your call.” I used his own words against him.<br/>
            Clint looks as though he is about to sign something else, but then nods. I look at him expectantly, waiting. He turns and leaves.<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “Are you real?” She turns to look at me. The red in her eyes flickers like candlelight.<br/>
            “I’m real, I’m really here,” I assure her. She looks around the room, her eyes wide in fear.<br/>
            “Where am I?” her voice is fragile, barely a whisper. The terror on her face is so evident, my heart breaks.<br/>
            “We’re on Clint’s farm, in my bedroom.” She nods, but I don’t think she believes me. “Little Witch?” She curls into a ball, resting her head on my stomach, shaking. Her fists grip my t-shirt, gathering the fabric into bunches. I think of calling Sam. But this isn’t psychological. Her powers are going haywire. And it’s my fault. I continue to rub her back until she falls asleep once more.<br/>
            In the morning, Wanda is more coherent, but no less haunted. She sits on the edge of the bed as I carry our bags down to the car.<br/>
            “Please stay,” Clint asks as I load the last bag into the trunk.<br/>
            “What about the kids?”<br/>
            “I don’t think for a second that she’d hurt them.” I think he is wrong. I think she could, and she would never forgive herself for it.<br/>
            “Clint, I’m so grateful that you trust Wanda, it truly means the world to me, but I don’t want to put her or them in that position.”<br/>
            “Then I can come with you.”<br/>
            “That’s not necessary. Laura and the kids need you.”<br/>
            “But it was only two days ago,” My skin prickles in annoyance.<br/>
            “Believe it or not, Barton, I can be responsible.” My eyes narrow.<br/>
            “I’m concerned,”<br/>
            “I’m fine. I bounce back fast.” I quip. He doesn’t stop.<br/>
            “There’s a difference between bouncing back and pushing it down, Nat.”<br/>
            “Drop it.”<br/>
            “Sorry, I just,”<br/>
            “I will be fine on my own for a few days. I’m not a ticking time bomb,” I grind my teeth.<br/>
            “But,”<br/>
            “In case you forgot, I am an adult.”<br/>
            “I just worry about you.”<br/>
            “You’re starting to treat me like one of your children,” I tease, but there is a clear warning embedded in the lightheartedness. I’ve noticed a change recently, a he ages and I don’t.<br/>
            “Noted," Clint looks away, having the decency to be embarrassed. <br/>
            “We’ll be back in a few days, okay?” He nods and pulls me into a hug and I stiffen. Hugging isn’t something we do often.<br/>
            “You’ll warm up to me eventually,” he jokes, trying to push past the awkwardness. <br/>
            “I’m going to grab Wanda.”<br/>
            I head upstairs and into the bedroom. With a sigh of relief, I see she hasn’t moved from her spot on the bed.<br/>
            “Hey, are you ready to go?” She rises from the bed and limps down the hall towards the stairs. Laura took the kids out of the house for the day to give us space and I am extremely thankful. Wanda hesitates at the stairs and I offer my arm. She doesn’t take it and heads down unassisted, a death grip on the railing. I say goodbye to Clint as Wanda sits in the passenger seat, her head resting on the window.<br/>
            “We’ll be okay Clint, only two hours away. And we will be back in time for Cooper’s baseball game. If I need you, I’ll text you.”<br/>
            “See you in a few days,” he nods stiffly.<br/>
            When I get in the car, Wanda turns to look at me.<br/>
            “I’m sorry.”<br/>
            “What for?”<br/>
            “For making us leave the farm.”<br/>
            “How do you know I didn’t have this trip already planned?”<br/>
            “Because you wouldn’t plan time away from the kids.”<br/>
            "I thought we could used a vacation, just the two of us," I lie poorly, she sees right through me.<br/>
            “I thought I was fixed. I thought I had control.” Control is something neither of us have ever had in our lives. I understand that desire better than anyone.<br/>
            “You know you can talk to me, right?”<br/>
             “You have enough going on without me adding to it.”<br/>
            “I never have so much going on that you can't talk to me.” Had I made it seem that way? “I’m here for you no matter what, okay? You are the most important part of my life.” She says nothing and we ride in silence for nearly an hour.<br/>
            I feel a hand grip my arm, nails digging in. Wanda stares out the windshield, her eyes wide in fear.<br/>
            “Wanda?” she says nothing, her grip tightening, “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” I look over at her quickly and see her eyes are not on the road, but the rearview mirror. “There is no one in the backseat. I promise.”<br/>
            “No one there?” she sounds far away.<br/>
            “We are the only ones in the car. Whatever you see isn’t real.” She removes her hand from my arm.<br/>
            “I’m sorry,” I look down at my arm and see crescent shaped cuts.<br/>
            “I’m okay, it’s nothing.” I flash her a reassuring smile.<br/>
            A half hour later, I turn off the main road. We bump along a gravel road, a grey dust cloud in our wake. I can see the cottage in the distance as we drive through a field of wild heather. As we get closer, I spot the groceries I ordered sitting on the front porch.<br/>
            “How long are we staying?” Wanda asks as I put the car in park.<br/>
            “I booked it for three nights, but we can always stay longer.” She opens up her door and stretches, her sundress billows in the wind. The creek behind the house babbles quietly. It is a little slice of paradise. I unload our bags from the trunk and take the key out from under the mat.<br/>
            The two-room cottage is quaint with whitewashed walls and floors. I begin to load the groceries into the fridge while Wanda looks around.<br/>
            “It’s pretty,” I look over my shoulder and see her playing with the vase of flowers at the center of the table.<br/>
            “The listing said that there is a place nearby with homemade ice cream. I was thinking we could go after dinner one night?” She shrugs. “There are probably some board games we could play, or maybe cards?”<br/>
            “I think I’m going to lie down for a little while,” she looks up from the flowers, her gaze landing on something behind me, despite the blank wall. I force out a smile,<br/>
            “Okay, I’m going to take a quick shower.” I watch as she takes off her leg and lies down on the bed, hugging her arms to her chest.<br/>
            The water pressure in the shower is abysmal. It is practically a drip. I will be better off bathing in the river. After finally getting out the rest of the conditioner, I turn off the water and towel off. From the bathroom, I get a better view of the property. On the other side of the river is conservation land. There are miles between us and the next house. I put back on my jean shorts and tank top and look at myself in the mirror. I feel more like myself than I did yesterday. But I look tired, and I won’t be sleeping until we get back to the farm. I am fine. Wanda needs me. I can't think about anything else. A crash sounds from the bedroom.<br/>
            I run in and find Wanda on the floor, her eyes wide.<br/>
            “Did you land on your leg?” She shakes her head. “Are you hurt?”<br/>
            “No,” she tears up. I inspect her residual limb anyway, fear coursing through me. We are at least an hour away from the nearest hospital. But it looks fine, even the bruise has faded away.<br/>
            “What happened?” I ask softly, helping her off the floor.<br/>
            “I thought,” she hiccups, “I look down and my leg was there. I could feel it, move my toes. Losing my leg, I thought it never happened, that I imagined it. It didn't feel as real as seeing myself whole again.” She keeps her eyes trained on her leg, as if expecting the lower half to reappear. Her eyes continue to flicker between colors, as they had this morning. It is different than when I found her in Brazil, when they were steadily red.<br/>
            “Wanda, can you please tell me what’s going on?”<br/>
             “I can’t tell the difference,” she murmurs. “I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.” Her hands squeeze into fists. “I’m awake, but my nightmares have bled into reality.” I don’t know what I can say to comfort her. How could I do this to her?<br/>
            “Do you want me to call Sam? I can have him here in four hours,”<br/>
            “No. This isn’t something he can fix. This isn’t something Bruce can fix.” She lies down. “I’m broken,”<br/>
            “You are not broken,” I lie. I broke her.<br/>
            “I want to be alone.” I try to hide how much the statement hurts.<br/>
            “Of course,” I stand up. “I’m going to see what games I can find for us to play later.” I head into the front room and begin to go through cabinets. There’s Monopoly with half the money missing. Checkers. Two partial decks of cards, that when combined can make a full set. The TV in the corner by the couch is so old that the screen curves. I pour myself a glass of wine and open up the back door leading out to the porch.<br/>
            It hangs over the stream that trickles below. Farther down, it seems to deepen and widen enough to swim. I can’t remember if I packed our swimsuits. The glass of wine goes untouched as I sit on the outdoor couch. As the sun begins to set, I hear the French doors open. Wanda comes out cautiously. She doesn’t have her cane or crutches, but carries the throw from the sofa. I resist the urge to jump up and help her. She sits down next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. Crickets chirp loudly, joined by mourning doves. I feel her tense up beside me before relaxing once more. I hate myself.<br/>
            “This isn’t your fault,” she takes the throw and puts it around us both. I hadn’t realized I was shivering. The temperature has dropped at least fifteen degrees. “I didn’t read your mind,” she adds quietly, “I can see it on your face.” I school my face back to being neutral. I can’t stop messing up. “I should have said something,” I wish she had. I wish she had told me. Told me about what the medicine was doing to her. About the experiments. About missing a year of her life. About any of it. <br/>
            “When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.” She closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath.<br/>
            “I’m scared,”<br/>
            “It’s okay to be scared,”<br/>
            “You’re never afraid, you’re the bravest person I know.” she counters quietly.<br/>
            “Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the assessment that something else is more important,” She opens up her eyes and looks up at me suspiciously, “FDR, I take zero credit.” She pulls my arms around her shoulders, wrapping herself in a hug. "And I know fear, we're old friends." I smile, "That quote is all mine." We watch the sunset over the trees. Fireflies light up the ground below. <br/>
            “In the backseat of the car, I saw my parents,” her voice is shaky, “I never saw their bodies, they never even had a funeral. But in the car, I saw what I have imagined in my darkest thoughts what they looked like when they died. Their bodies mangled, burned. My father only had half his face when I saw him in the mirror. My mother burned, barely recognizable.” I feel myself stiffen and force my body to relax. “In my dreams, they have a slow, painful death. In my nightmares, I kill them.” She presses closer, “I think of how they would see me now. I used to think of myself one way. But after this I am something else. And still me, I think. But I don’t know. I question if I am the same girl they raised. If they would look at my face and even recognize the person I have become.”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter should be out soon, probably by Friday evening!<br/>Looking forward to your comments is a welcome distraction from everything going on around us! <br/>Thank you so much for your wonderful comments on the last chapter! Can't wait for you all to see what comes next :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for your awesome comments on the last chapter! They truly make my day :)<br/>There is a lot of uncertainty in the world right now. I hope I am providing some kind of distraction from all of that, even if its only for a few minutes.<br/>Please enjoy and stay healthy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “You are not the same girl they raised,” I pull away in surprise, “You are still her, but there’s almost eight years of living that have followed the day they died. I don’t doubt that they would recognize you. I could tell after our first conversation that you have always been giving, kind, smart, unbearably stubborn. They would be very proud of the woman you’ve become.”<br/>
            “Before the war, I had a good life. We were not rich, but we never starved. My father used to play the saxophone. My mother was a schoolteacher. Even once schools shut down, she continued to teach us. At night, my father played music to drown out the bombings. They were good people.” I forget what it felt like to be held in their arms. But I can see my mother dancing with Pietro as my father plays music, me at his feet. Our two-bedroom apartment was snug and warm. My stomach twists. “I’m hungry,” I say quickly, before we talk anymore about my past.<br/>
            “I’ll make us something to eat,” she frowns, not oblivious to my attempt at diversion, but she doesn’t push the topic. I sit down at the table, watching as Natasha mixes pancake batter.<br/>
            “It’s nine o’clock.”<br/>
            “So?” She smiles over her shoulder at me. For the first time ever, she doesn’t burn the pancakes. “Practice makes perfect,” Her eyes sparkle with triumph and life, something I noticed I have been seeing less and less. She is affable while we eat, noticeably out of character.<br/>
            “What’s going on?” I ask as I carry my plate over to the sink.<br/>
            “What do you mean?”<br/>
            “You aren’t acting like yourself.”<br/>
            “Whether or not you believe it, not burning those pancakes was really what I needed.” She turns on the sink, “Go shuffle that deck of cards while I do the dishes. I want to kick your ass at War.”<br/>
            I sit down on the couch, watching her move around the kitchen as I shuffle the cards. It feels like the other shoe is about to drop. She opens up the fridge and pulls out a can of whipped cream, before coming to sit across from me. She looks over my shoulder onto the back porch.<br/>
            “All good?” I ask, turning to look.<br/>
            “Great, and very ready to win.” With the can of Reddi-wip between us, we begin to play War. The middle cushion on the couch becomes a card table. When I win for the second time, she leans back on the arm of the sofa in defeat.<br/>
            “Nat, thank-” I am cut off and watch in horror as a bullet hits her chest. Her shirt begins to darken. I jump forward and press my hands against the wound as they become sticky with blood. I look over my shoulder and the French doors remain both closed and unbroken. I cannot figure out where the bullet came from. She can’t die. I can’t lose her. I am only just getting her back. She struggles under the pressure of my hands.<br/>
            “Wanda,” She looks up at me, confused.<br/>
            “It’s going to be okay; I’ll call an ambulance. You’re going to be okay,” I promise her. The uncertainty in her eyes disappears, replaced with concern. She shouldn’t be worried about me! She is bleeding out on the couch. We don’t have AI. The phones are on the other side of the room. I can see them on the dining table. If I take pressure off the wound, she’ll bleed out. My breath comes in ragged gasps.<br/>
            “I’m okay,” she says gently.<br/>
            “What do you mean?” I cry, the blood pooling around my hands. She can’t just give up, not after everything that has happened. It can’t be that she dies in an isolated cabin that we went to because of me. And where the fuck is the shooter? “Mom, I can stop the bleeding. I can do it.”<br/>
            “Wanda,” she pulls my hands away with surprising strength. “Tell me what you’re seeing, talk to me.”<br/>
             “What are you doing? We need to keep pressure on it,”<br/>
            “I’m okay, I’m not bleeding.”<br/>
            “I saw you get shot,” I stammer. Her eyes widen, her frown deepening. She stands up from the couch, dripping with blood and grabs her phone, quickly snapping a photo. She turns it around to show me. The picture shows no blood. “I heard the gunshot; I saw you start to bleed.” My teeth begin to chatter. I look down and see my hands aren’t covered in blood. And the only mark on Natasha’s chest is from my own hands applying too much pressure.<br/>
            “It’s okay, I’m okay, Little Witch.” She pulls me against her, stroking my hair. “Shhh,” she soothes, “We’re okay,” She picks me up and carries me to the bedroom. She removes my leg and stands up from the bed.<br/>
            “Where are you going?” I sit up quickly.<br/>
            “I’ll be right back, okay?” She returns a moment later with a cool, damp washcloth. She rubs it on my neck and cheeks before folding it onto my forehead. I lie down on her lap, still not believing my eyes. Just minutes ago, she was dying on the couch. I reach out to touch where the bullet wound was. “I’m okay, I promise.”<br/>
            “I was so scared, I thought you,”<br/>
            “I know,” she murmurs into my hair. “Whenever you’re not sure, just ask me okay? Just like before. That helped, right?” I nod.<br/>
            “Are you going to stay?”<br/>
            “Nothing could move me from this spot. Sleep, things will be better in the morning,”<br/>
<br/>
            I wake up to find her in the bed, as promised. She smiles down at me, she still wears her clothes from yesterday, meaning she slept in jean shorts all night. If she slept at all.<br/>
            “Hi,”<br/>
            “Good morning,” I reply, sitting up.<br/>
            “How are you feeling?”<br/>
            “I need to shower,” I pick up my crutches and head into the bathroom. I look in the mirror for the first time in days. I gawk in both wonder and revulsion as I watch my eyes flash between colors. I concentrate in the mirror, staring at my eyes until they steadily hold blue. I sit down on the stool in the shower that Natasha brought. I cringe when I think about how she has had to watch this disgusting display of my powers for days, watching my eyes glow like a demon.<br/>
            The water pressure sucks. I give up after shampooing my hair, not even bothering with conditioner. I turn off the shower, disappointed, and pull open the curtain. I leave the bathroom and head back into the bedroom where Natasha is on her phone.<br/>
            “Hey, how was the shower?” I must have made a face because she laughs. “I know, maybe we can swim in the river later.” I concentrate on keeping my powers under control as I put on a new sundress.<br/>
            In the kitchen, Natasha makes me toast while she drinks a protein shake. She is trying too hard and looks like she hasn’t slept in days. The morning sun catches on her red hair, making it look like fire.<br/>
            “What do you want to do today?” she asks, rinsing her cup out in the sink.<br/>
            “You suggested the river,”<br/>
            “We can do something else,”<br/>
            “This river is good,”<br/>
            “We should,”<br/>
            “I don’t want to,” I say sharply, “not yet,” I add much more quietly.<br/>
            “Whenever you’re ready,” I almost feel irritated that she is being so patient with me, so understanding.<br/>
            I pull my swimsuit on underneath my dress and follow Natasha down the path to the Adirondack chairs that sit near the riverbed. The shore is pebbly, different than the sandy watering hole on the farm. Natasha offers her arm and I take it reluctantly, allowing my pride to take the blow instead of my leg.<br/>
            “Are you okay?” She pulls off her t-shirt and shorts, revealing her black bikini.<br/>
            “I’m fine,” I reply, concentrating on forcing my powers down. Is this how I am going to have to live the rest of my life? Constantly on? How does Natasha do it? I look over at my mom as she wades into the water, it only goes halfway up her thighs. The exit wound from the Winter Soldier is visible until she lies back on her back, floating in the crystalline water.<br/>
            “I learned how to swim when I was five years old.” Natasha begins. I lean forward in the chair, my interest piqued. It is not often that Natasha shares information about her time in the Red Room, especially unprompted. “It was right after the first thaw. The crocuses had just begun to push from the ground. They lined up everyone in my year and we boarded a boat. We drove to a lake near the school,” her eyes are closed, “And it was still cold, only forty degrees, or five Celsius. When the boat reached the center of the lake, they threw us off, one by one. I was third in line. I had seen the first two girls die. They had panicked when the landed in the water. That is what killed them. Ivan went to throw me in, so instead I jumped.” I try to imagine Natasha younger than Lila, watching girls dying in freezing water. “The first two girls ended up being the only ones dying. Everyone else realized that it was letting the fear have control that killed them.” She sits up in the water, the river lapping at her shoulders. “You want to know, don’t you?”<br/>
            “Know what?”<br/>
            “How old I was the first time I killed someone,” she doesn’t look particularly perturbed by it.<br/>
            “I have wondered,” I admit bashfully.<br/>
            “Nine,” she switches back to swimming, the only indicator that she is embarrassed to look at me. “Two of us would be put in a room together, only one could come out. Brings new meaning to final exam.” Her laugh is humorless. “That day on the boat, there were twenty of us. When I was nine, we were down to twelve.” She climbs out of the water, wrapping herself in a towel.<br/>
            “Was Yelena in your year?” She pauses from drying off her hair.<br/>
            “Who told you about her?” Natasha’s voice is dangerously low, and I know now I have mentioned something I shouldn’t have.<br/>
            “Clint mentioned her once,”<br/>
             “Yelena was a year younger. Please never bring her up again.” She sits down in the chair next to me, her ankles crossed and propped up on an arm of the chair.<br/>
            “Sorry,” I shrink down in my chair.<br/>
            “Wanda, you can always ask my questions,” she says earnestly, “Just sometimes I can’t answer. Okay?” She twists her hair into a knot atop her head.<br/>
            “I’m sorry for not telling you about everything, about how the medicine made me feel, why it did.” my cheeks burn as I look over at her.<br/>
            “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks gently. Her face is open and kind, so unlike the person I met almost two years ago.<br/>
             “I was, am embarrassed,” I play with the hem of my dress. I can feel Natasha’s intense gaze. “I volunteered for captivity and testing. It’s disgusting.” I feel my skin crawl. “It is a lie to say the only reason we agreed was for revenge against Tony.” Natasha doesn’t rush me. “Pietro and I were living on the streets. And he took it upon himself to protect me. At this point, I was thirteen and didn’t look like a little girl anymore.” A chill runs through me, “Nothing ever happened, but there were so close calls, a little too close. We had to find a place to stay. Orphanages were overrun with smaller children, there was so space for two teenagers. So, we volunteered to be lab rats,” The words burn the back of my throat.<br/>
            “You were trying to survive, no one can fault you for that.”<br/>
            “You wouldn’t have made the same decision,” I know this for a fact.<br/>
            “There is no way for us to know what I would or wouldn’t have done.” She disagrees softly. Despite what she insists, Natasha is nearly as noble as Steve. She broke away from more than twenty years of brainwashing and abuse. I don’t think she would ever have given up her free will so readily. I think of coming out of the fog, being in a glass cage.<br/>
            “I want to go inside,” I blurt out. As soon as we are off the rocky beach, I break away from Natasha, going up the back-porch steps as quickly as I can. I can feel my eyes burning red. I take deep breaths, forcing the powers down.<br/>
            “Wanda, you’re shaking.” Natasha sits down next to me against the wall.<br/>
            “It was one of the scariest moments of my life.” I murmur, closing my eyes. “When they finally started to decrease the drugs in my system to see how powerful I was. I was like an animal in a zoo. The front of my cage was glass for viewing, and I was alone. I couldn’t remember anything. Not even my name. Pietro spoke to me through our shared wall, telling me stories until my thoughts became clearer, when things started to come back. Eventually, I discovered that I could read his mind. But I didn’t know it could go both ways. I tried not to, but I had even less control then. Not only did I experience my torture, but his. I was pulled into his nightmares, his flashbacks. I was so high, I had trouble getting off the ground. I couldn’t figure out what was going on with me. It didn’t make sense, no matter how many times Pietro explained it.” I force myself to open my eyes, praying that I am not back in the lab. Natasha is sitting next to me, holding my hand, rubbing her thumb in rhythmic circles. “It was all my fault,” I cry, “If Pietro had squeezed me under the bed with him, he could have survived alone. He would have never been experimented on. Ultron never would have happened. He would have never died. It is my fault he is dead.” I sob, but also feel like a weight has lifted. I have finally admitted what I have been lying to myself about since his death.<br/>
            “Wanda, have you been carrying this around the entire time?” Natasha asks. “Besides the point that it isn’t true, that is much to big of a burden to carry on your own.”<br/>
            “I did, I killed him.”<br/>
             “Wanda, he loved you. You dying would not have made things better. You are focusing so much on what ifs. That is not a good place to be. It is impossible to know what could have been.”  We sit in silence for a moment. The window unit air conditioner hums from the bedroom. I look down at the floor and can see a spot that the whitewash missed.<br/>
            “Don’t you ever wonder what could have been?”<br/>
            “I used to.” She replies, I look over at her. “I used to have this dream that someday I would get married. We would live in a small house on the shore. I’d have two children, a boy and a girl. My husband built houses. I was a science teacher. There was no death or violence. Just peace. Sometimes on missions, if I would have a moment, I would pause outside of people’s houses, imagining their lives. Imagining that I was a part of them. The daughter home from college. A single mom. The older sister who got her younger siblings into trouble.”<br/>
            “What happened?” I wait for her to say something sharp and biting, like <em>I grew up</em>.<br/>
            “It hurt too much.”<br/>
            “So you don’t wonder at all anymore? What would have happened if you hadn’t been in the Red Room.”<br/>
            “I wouldn’t have you,” I want to ask her if it would be worth it. But that seems to be asking for too much. “For the first time, I have a dream of what will be,” she adds, a smile working her way onto her face. “I imagine you walking across the stage at graduation, attending our first UN Summit together, dropping you off at college. I imagine vacations we will take. Ski trips, shopping, sailing. Traveling around the world not to save it but enjoy it.”<br/>
            “I’d like that,” I turn to look at her and relief spreads across her face. How long she has been holding onto that hope? How long had she kept that dream to herself? I love her so much and feel so grateful that she has taken me in, cared for me, loved me. And I realize that she doesn’t remember when I told her the first time, “You’re a good mom, Nat.” I feel her stiffen next to me in surprised before turning and hugging me tight. Her arms wrap around me, her head resting on my shoulder. If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn she was crying.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had such bad writers block for this chapter. I know exactly where I want the story to be next chapter but not this one. C'est la vie!<br/>I hope you liked it nonetheless!<br/>Next chapter will be probably be up Sunday!<br/>(I am also growing increasingly impatient for my part 4 &amp; 5 stories lines to start!! The wait is killing me! I'm sick of leaving breadcrumbs, I want to leave the whole damn loaf! Lol Sorry I am rambling, social distancing really is something, right?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 29! Thank you all for following along, enjoy!<br/>As I got a few requests- I added extra fluff!! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            I wake up to the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen. After putting on my leg, I head into the main room of the cottage. Natasha is hunched over her phone at the counter, a steaming mug in hand.<br/>
            “Good morning,” She jumps, out of character for the normally unflappable spy. However, her face brightens when she sees me.<br/>
            “How did you sleep?” Natasha asks as she hands me a cup of coffee.<br/>
            “Fine,” I shrug, sitting down at the dining table. She pours me a bowl of cereal.<br/>
            “I bought five different kinds of over the counter pain relievers. Please try at least one of them,” she begs. I pinch my lips, I thought I was doing a better job hiding it. “And please use your cane for a few more weeks. You are pushing yourself too hard,” she brushes my hair out of my face. When I look up at her, she looks exhausted. There are dark circles under her bloodshot eyes.<br/>
            “Nat, have you slept at all since we got here?” She rolls her eyes.<br/>
            “What do you think I do all night?” she teases, putting two extra strength Advil in front of me.<br/>
            “We’re going back to the farm tonight, right?”<br/>
            “Yes if you’re ready. If not, we can stay here a few more nights. Whatever you need,”<br/>
            “I’d like to head back.” She smiles at me, relief flooding her face.<br/>
            Within a few hours, we are on the road. She turns on the radio in the car and top forty hits fill the small space. Her eyes are steely as she keeps them glued to the road. Something is bothering her. I turn off the radio, and she glances over at me quickly.<br/>
            “You can go on aux instead, if you’d prefer,” she offers.<br/>
            “You only drive with music playing when something is bothering you or you’re mad at me,” I point out.<br/>
            “I’m not mad at you,” she assures me quickly. She pauses for a moment too long, “Nothing is bothering me either. Just excited to get back to the farm.”<br/>
            “I am glad you’ll be able to drive your Porsche again, once we get back to New York,”<br/>
            “What do you mean?” Natasha keeps her eyes on the road, changing lanes to pass a tractor.<br/>
            “Well, since I broke my leg, we’ve had to use the SUV. And you hate the SUV.”<br/>
            “I don’t hate the SUV,” she frowns.<br/>
            “Fine, but you love your Porsche. What was it that you called it once? The Widow Mobile?”<br/>
            “I would give up that car in an instant for you,” she breathes, but her voice quickly returns to its normal volume, “I do have to say, best birthday present anyone has ever given me,” Her frown disappears, replaced by a fake smile. She had said before that the car was the first thing she ever chose to buy. But the forced phony smile tells me not to push. Her birthday. Maybe that’s what is bothering her?<br/>
            “Are you excited for your birthday? And the big party?”<br/>
            “The party isn’t for me. It’s the Fourth of July.” She passes a pickup truck, picking up speed. “I’d be fine if we ignored the whole affair.”<br/>
            “But it’s your birthday.”<br/>
            “I should really only be celebrating every four years, like a leap year.” She has reached seventy and the speed limit is only forty.<br/>
            “Natasha, you’re going really fast,” I grip the edges of my seat. She looks down at the speedometer and then the speed limit sign that we are passing. We immediately slow down.<br/>
            “Sorry, just in a rush to get back.” She turns back on the radio.</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
            We pull up to the farmhouse and are greeted excitedly by the Barton’s. Lila chats to Natasha all the way up to the front porch and inside, as if we had been gone three months rather than days.<br/>
            “What did you do the whole time?” Cooper asks curiously.<br/>
            “We played cards and went swimming,” Natasha explains. She wisely leaves out the moments where I would wake up from a nap screaming, or when I thought that my dead parents were in the car with us. “The water was so cold in the river; I can’t wait to swim in the pool.”<br/>
             “It won’t be ready until next week,” Lila pipes in, “Two days before the Fourth,”<br/>
            “But you did make it back in time for my game tonight,” Cooper nudges his sister out of the way, “We are playing under the lights,” I look to Natasha, not knowing what that means. But she doesn’t notice, enrapt by the two children, three if counting Nate who is tugging at her hair, clamoring for her attention. Clint gently rests a hand on my shoulder.<br/>
            “How you doing, kid?”<br/>
            “I’m better now, I think. Or getting there,”<br/>
            “You’ve had it pretty rough the past few months,” he agrees. “You know we’re here for you right? If you need anything?”<br/>
            “Thank you, Clint.”<br/>
            “Wanda, you want to help me make sandwiches for the game?” Laura asks, heading over to the kitchen.<br/>
            “I’m happy to help, but Natasha is the sandwich master,”<br/>
            “Actually, I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit. The game is at seven, right?” she looks over to Clint who nods. She pulls Nate off of her gently before heading upstairs. Clint casts a worried glance to Laura before hurrying up the stairs behind Natasha. I join Laura in the kitchen, trying hard to push the nauseous feeling in my stomach away.<br/>
            The Barton’s had just finished lunch when we arrived, and I happily take some of the leftover pulled pork.<br/>
            “Please tell me you ate while you were on your vacation,” Laura frets.<br/>
            “Yes, Natasha made sure to feed me,” I laugh.<br/>
            “Mom,” Cooper skids into the kitchen, “Can we go to the park early? The carnival set up today,” Laura doesn’t seem to be thrilled by the idea.<br/>
            “I don’t know, Coop. I’ll ask Dad when he comes back downstairs.” Laura replies. I spread mayonnaise on the bread for Clint’s BLT. I remember that he was in the circus, a carnival may hit a little too close to home. However, when Clint is told of Cooper’s request, he grins.<br/>
            “Oh, I am going to kick ass at those rigged games!”<br/>
            “Clint,” Laura rolls her eyes but laughs. There is a banging sound from upstairs.<br/>
            “What was that?”<br/>
            “I was doing some remodeling in our bedroom, balanced the ironing board on top of a ladder,” Clint explains. “I’m going to go make sure nothing broke,” he takes off in a sprint.<br/>
            “That is oddly specific,” I look to Laura who is chewing her lip. A little while later, Natasha and Clint come downstairs. Natasha is looking worse than she did earlier. I am almost certain the crash I heard earlier was her, not some remodeling gone wrong.<br/>
            “I hope you did a good job on those sandwiches, as you said, I am the Sandwich Queen,” she rests her head on mine, looking down at the pile of sandwiches in front of me. “Perhaps that should be my new codename instead of Black Widow.”<br/>
            “You know there’s this town in Massachusetts called Sandwich. Their police cars literally say Sandwich Police,” I joke back, thinking of the meme. I feel the pressure on my head disappear as she sits down next to me at the table, smiling.<br/>
            “Cooper said we’re going to the carnival?” she looks to Clint with raised eyebrows.<br/>
            “Yes, we didn’t go last year,” Clint provides no further explanation. I forgot the reason Natasha came out here last summer was not for celebrations, but to check on Clint who hadn’t been doing well at the time.<br/>
            An hour later, all seven of us are crammed into the SUV. Lila sits between Natasha and I in the middle row, while in the back are Cooper and Nate.<br/>
            “I’m going to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl, the bumper cars, and the swing ride,” she continues to list them off with increased excitement, “I am finally tall enough as long as Daddy rides with me,” she explains.<br/>
            “Very excited for you, Lila-bear,” Natasha laughs.<br/>
            The fair grounds are right next to the baseball field, and Cooper runs off to be with his friends, all in uniform as well. Lila grabs her father’s hand and drags him off, while Laura takes Nate over to the toddler rides.<br/>
            “Looks like its you and me, Little Witch,” I look over and see she isn’t fronting, she seems genuinely happy to be here with me. Perhaps I imagined it in the kitchen when I thought she looked worse. Natasha quickly nixes bumper cars, not wanting for something to happen to my leg if I bang it too hard. It sounds ridiculous, but I relent, not wanting to push.<br/>
            “Flying Bobs?” I ask, nodding to the ski lift type rides, dangling above a track. We get to the front of the line and a pimply teenager looks down at my leg, clearly visible in my jean shorts.<br/>
            “Sorry, but you’ve got to take it off to ride.”<br/>
            “What?” Natasha frowns.<br/>
            “It’s a safety risk,” he nods to the sign. I want to curl up and die, right here.<br/>
            “I’m not taking off my leg.” I state, looking over at Nat.<br/>
            “Are there any rides that don’t require that?” she asks.<br/>
            “Merry-Go-Round, Ferris Wheel,” he offers, not without sympathy. I feel tears burning in my eyes.<br/>
            “Come on,” she guides me away from the rides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t think to research,” she stops. I wonder how often she does research before we go out and do something, it actually makes me feel a little better. We walk slowly around the fairgrounds, Natasha keeping pace with me.<br/>
            “The last summer before the civil war, my parents brought us to a carnival that they set up in the market,” I nod to a giant teddy bear in a game booth, “My father spent so much money winning us one of those bears, my mother was furious.” I laugh, thinking of how it took both Pietro and I to carry it back to our apartment. “We used to take turns sleeping with it, even though it took up the whole bed,” I had forgotten about that. It is so easy to focus on the bad memories, to forget about the good. Eventually, my mother had to end up using it to patch and fill our winter coats.<br/>
            She loops her arm into my free one and leads us over to the carnival games. I immediately know which one she is going for. The Wild West Shootout. I watch as a man in camo messes up, missing the moving targets. He curses, only getting a handful of shots. He walks away with a keychain. Natasha struts forward and hands the man working the stand ten dollars to take both available guns.<br/>
             “Sweetheart, I think you should stick with one. This game isn’t easy, especially shooting two guns at once.” Natasha looks innocently at the man. He takes his time showing her how to use the pellet gun.<br/>
            “I just want to give it a shot,” I cough at her joke, trying not to laugh. “I’ve never used a gun before,” She tilts her head to the side, her bright hair falling over her shoulders. The guy running the booth concedes. Natasha pulls off her jean jacket, tossing it to the side. She flexes her shoulder muscles and takes a gun in each hand.<br/>
            “You get one point for each target you clip, double if it’s a bullseye. You have ten ‘bullets’ in each gun,” the carnival worker explains. “Normally, I only give someone one minute, but for you, young lady, I’ll give you two. Good luck,” he looks at her doubtfully, thinking that this small young woman doesn’t stand a chance. I can imagine Natasha snapping his neck with one hand. But she only smiles sweetly and waits for the game to start. Within twenty-five seconds, Natasha is out of bullets and has hit every bullseye.<br/>
            “Beginners luck?” she shrugs at the slack jawed worker.<br/>
            “Well I’ll be. Take whatever prize you want,” he mutters, going to take a seat at his stool. Natasha stretches and to grab the giant teddy bear hanging above us.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat!” Lila comes darting over with Clint racing behind. “Did you win?”<br/>
            “Of course,” she picks the girl up on her hip.<br/>
            “Can I pick out the prize?” Lila asks, her eyes catching on a pink unicorn.<br/>
            “Actually, Chickadee,”<br/>
            “I think you should get the unicorn, Lila,” I suggest. Natasha looks over at me, surprised. The little girl reaches up and grabs the oversized horse, clutching it to her chest, it is nearly as big as her. She scrambles out of Natasha’s arms and shows off the unicorn to Clint, who pulls his daughter up onto his shoulders, the stuffed animal’s leg hitting him in the face. Natasha reclaims her jean jacket.<br/>
            “I’m sorry you didn’t get your bear,” She looks over her shoulder at the teddy, “I know it wouldn’t have had the same value but,”<br/>
            “No, thank you, Nat. Just that you would have won it for me, and that I got to see that misogynistic carnie practically die in shock, is enough.” She looks back to me, her lips quirking into a small smile. We follow Lila and Clint to the front gate where the rest of the family is waiting.<br/>
            We make the short walk towards the diamond and Natasha keeps casting worried looks my way.<br/>
            “I’m okay, really,” I tell her, though I am grateful when we reach the stands and I am able to sit down. Natasha and Laura sit on either side of me, while Lila and Nate play with the unicorn on a nearby patch of grass. Clint is in the dugout with Cooper, as I was just informed, he is the assistant coach. Laura hands us each a sandwich. We cheer on Cooper as he pitches a near perfect game. I see now what playing under the lights mean, as spotlights shine on the field. The temperature drops and I shiver in just shorts and a blouse. Natasha removes her jean jacket once more, extending it to me.       <br/>
            “I run warm, please take it,” she offers it more forcefully. I comply, putting it on. I find her clothes are no longer too big on me as they were when I arrived. We are now the same size. She watches the game intently, not seeming the least bit bored, as Lila and I have become. I see a flash go off and Natasha is out of her seat so fast it doesn’t seem possible. However, it is an old man with his camera trained on the batter, probably his grandson. Natasha relaxes back into her seat.<br/>
            “Natasha, people are going to find out eventually, we’ve prepared for it.” Laura says softly to Nat, who is still tense.<br/>
             “I just want you all to have normal lives for as long as possible.”<br/>
            “What were you going to do? Break their phone and buy them off?” I ask. She nods, moving her attention back to Cooper who is winding up for a pitch.<br/>
            The game ends with Cooper’s team winning and the ride home is celebratory, though I notice that Natasha is struggling to stay awake, even through the constant cacophony of both Cooper and Lila trying to speak louder than each other. Even Nate attempts to join in, yelling made up words.<br/>
            When we get back to the farmhouse, Natasha offers to put the kids to bed while I sit with Laura and Clint in the kitchen. Clint cracks open a beer and offers me a sip. I try it and cringe.<br/>
            “That is disgusting!” He and Laura laugh. “I think I’ll stick to champagne,”<br/>
            “You hear that, Nat? Your daughter is a snob,” Clint looks over his shoulder as Natasha walks into the room.<br/>
            “She just likes the finer things in life, nothing wrong with that,” she replies, stealing his beer, but then reaching into the fridge and tossing him a new one.<br/>
            “You are ridiculous, why not just take a fresh beer for yourself?” he groans.<br/>
            “What’s the fun in that?” She sits down at the table next to Clint. He starts to go over the statistics for tonight’s game and soon it is nearly eleven. I yawn and try to hide it, but Natasha catches me. “I put a glass of water and your pajamas on the bed in the guest room.” I say goodnight and head up the stairs into the room. I nervously wonder if I will be having nightmares tonight. I don’t want to wake up the kids, or the rest of the house, if I am screaming. But it didn’t happen last night. I look around and realize that someone, probably Natasha, took all the pictures off the walls.<br/>
            I wake up without a single nightmare. It is miraculous. I feel well rested for the first time in weeks. Like I can finally breathe. The horrors of my past aren’t floating in the corner of my eyes. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I can hear Clint and Natasha arguing from the kitchen. Or it is more Clint yelling, while Natasha leans back lazily in her chair, mug of coffee in hand.<br/>
            “You can’t go,”<br/>
             “Of course I have to go,” She rolls her eyes.<br/>
            “Go where?” I ask. Natasha stands up, offering me her seat and pours me a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar.<br/>
            “Cap needs me on a mission,”<br/>
            “A mission?” I bite the inside of my cheek.<br/>
            “Back me up, Wanda. She should just say no,” Clint huffs. Natasha hands me my coffee. Her sleeve rides up slightly and I can see her wrist is raw. She sees me looking and quickly pulls it back down.<br/>
            “I don’t think you should go,” I agree with Clint.<br/>
            “See? How have you even been cleared?”<br/>
            “Because I have been, I was before we came out here.”<br/>
            “But Nat,”<br/>
            “It’s just a small solo mission,” I choke on my coffee. “Not that kind,” she reassures us quickly, “Private security detail for a diplomat from the Ukraine visiting Belarus. It is just a small trip. I will be back in five days at the most,”<br/>
            “The party is in seven,” Clint reminds her.<br/>
            “And I will be back in five or less,” she promises. She turns to me. “Are you okay? If you really need me to, I will stay.”<br/>
            “Do you need to go on this mission?” She nods. “Then I’ll be okay.” Her shoulders sag with relief. I think of what she said in Hawaii, how she can’t say no to missions. I look to Clint, who seems also privy to this new information.<br/>
            “Do you want to go on this mission, Nat?” Clint asks carefully.<br/>
            “Yes. Now, will you two stop worrying? I swear you guys forget I am the world’s deadliest assassin,” She finishes off her coffee. Despite the bravado, her eyes dart around the room and her back is tense. But neither Clint nor I say anything, knowing the verbal lashing we would get would be just as bad as any physical torture. “I will be back in four days, five tops.”<br/>
            “Wait, you’re leaving now?” I can’t help myself as my voice crawls into a whine.<br/>
            “Yes, be good for the Barton’s, Little Witch,” she pulls me into a hug and then checks Clint with her hip. Then she is gone.<br/>
            “Is she okay?” I look over at Clint. He sits down across from me at the table.<br/>
            “She can handle herself. I can imagine she is probably pretty eager to go. It has been a while since her last mission. And security details like this are pretty low risk, I wouldn’t worry. It’s a good reintroduction into the field after being away for a while,” It doesn’t sit right with me. But sure enough, when I Google it, I see an announcement about the Ukrainian foreign minister visiting Belarus this week.<br/>
            Laura takes me shopping to pick out a present for Natasha’s birthday. I had ordered her new throwing stars that look like black widow spiders, but it seems impersonal, and not enough. Lila skips ahead of us, asking to buy everything in her path.<br/>
            “I wish she hadn’t gone on the mission,” My stomach has been in knots since she left three days ago. We had received a single text notify us of her arrival. And I know we won’t hear from her again until she gets back.<br/>
            "She'll be okay," she assures me, "Nat can do a minor security detail in her sleep." Laura holds up a pair of leather gloves. I shake my head.
            “There should be a category for the master assassin and mother figure in your life,” I sigh as we look at the purses.<br/>
            “Maybe a card would be best,” Laura suggests. “She seemed to appreciate when you gave her that photo. I think that Natasha would prefer something like that rather than an expensive present, especially when you already got her those knives,”<br/>
            “Throwing stars,” I correct with a smile, “But you’re right. She can already buy all of this.” Lila turns around to face us, gripping two tubes of lipstick.<br/>
            “Oh no,” Laura’s face pales, “Lila, put those down! They’re fifty dollars each!”</p><p>            The fourth day passes by without Natasha arriving, meaning that the mission is running as long as possible. Every creak has me looking to the front door. There is a knock that evening, and Lila bounces up.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat?” she asks hopefully.<br/>
            “She has keys,” Cooper points out from his spot on the floor.<br/>
            “Please, you all just sit there, I will get the door,” Clint groans, rushing in from his office. He pulls open the door and I am surprised to see Steve and Sam.<br/>
            “Hey, we came early, hope that’s okay.”<br/>
            “Come on in.” Clint steps out of the way. The two walk inside, quickly tackled by the kids. Laura walking into the living room.<br/>
            “We just finished dinner, but there are leftovers if you’re hungry.”<br/>
            “We stopped for dinner in town before heading over. Didn’t want to double the burden,”<br/>
            “Steve, you are never a burden,” Laura rolls her eyes. “How about some lemonade?”<br/>
            “I’ll take one,” Sam grins, “Thanks.”<br/>
            I can’t help but be mad at Steve for putting Natasha into the field on her vacation. Granted, it had been a while, but right now was supposed to be a break. I figured as soon as we got back from this trip, Natasha would go on missions again. I would go back to sessions with Chad and working on learning a new language, hopefully finishing Italian and finally learning Korean. But not before the party. I head out on to the back porch, sulking, and a little mad at myself for being so selfish. The porch swing wobbles as I sit down, leaning my back against the slats of wood.<br/>
            “Hey Wanda, how’s it going?” Steve joins me out on the porch. Of course. The person I was trying to avoid.<br/>
            “Fine. How are things in New York?” I ask, trying to be polite.<br/>
            “Good, slow right now. Sam and I just got back from a mission in Alaska, so we decided to stop here rather than flying back this way tomorrow.” He sits down next to me on the swing and it creaks, adjusting to the new weight. “I was expecting her to be out here with you,”<br/>
            “Who?” I think of Lila climbing all over him and Sam.<br/>
            “Natasha. I didn’t see her inside.”<br/>
            “Obviously.” I roll my eyes.<br/>
            “What do you mean?” I look over at Steve, he seems genuinely confused.<br/>
            “<em>You</em> sent her to Belarus,” His jaw tightens.<br/>
            “No, I didn’t.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Where is Nat??? Cliff hanger!!<br/>Next chapter will be up (hopefully) by Tuesday!<br/>As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!<br/>Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! Posting ahead of schedule, what?! I know! All your comments on the last chapter motivated me to write as quickly as possible! I even almost have the next chapter done!<br/>Also, realized i made in error but its too late to fix it, apparently the Barton's live in Missouri and not Iowa (sigh) but i guess for this fic, they live two hours outside of Des Moines lol<br/>I am so flattered that you are all following along with this story. These are crazy times and its nice to escape for a while, its probably one of the reasons i am typing out chapters like nobody's business. My state goes into lock down tomorrow, so i will have even more time to post! Okay, sorry for the rambling! Read! Enjoy! As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “What do you mean you didn’t?” I think I am going to be sick.<br/>
            “We agreed a few weeks ago that she wouldn’t go on any missions until you start school again.” He crosses arms. “Maybe Fury sent her?” The panic in my chest begins to build. “Let’s head inside, talk to Clint. Give Hill and Fury a call.<br/>
            In the kitchen, Lila and Cooper are in their swimsuits, ready to try out the new pool.<br/>
            “Wanda, do you want to go swimming with us?” Lila asks, “You can make big waves!”<br/>
            “Maybe later,” I force myself to smile, even if on the inside I am dying. Clint looks between Steve and I. Laura seems to catch on just as quickly.<br/>
            “Okay kids; let’s go swimming,” she pulls all three out the back door.<br/>
            “What’s going on?” Sam asks.<br/>
            “I never sent Natasha on a mission to Belarus.” Clint’s face pales. He heads into his office, the three of us following. It’s my first time going into this room, it looks like it came out of a Pottery Barn catalog. Under better circumstances, I would have teased him. Without question, I know Natasha has.<br/>
            “FRIDAY,” Clint asks once the door is closed. I pull my attention away from the room in surprise. “It’s only in this room,” he explains, snapping. His normally easygoing personality has disappeared. “FRIDAY, I want all purchases made under any of Natasha’s aliases.”<br/>
            “I just texted Fury, he didn’t send Natasha out on any missions.” I look at the text that Fury sent Steve. The language and expletives are much more colorful than Steve let on.<br/>
            “Great, now we have maybe two hours until Fury gets here, wondering what we did with his favorite agent.” Clint snaps. FRIDAY’s voice breaks the tension.<br/>
            “Nadia Rostov booked a flight to Belarus, seat 26A. Flying out of Des Moines, layover at JFK. There is also hotel booked under the same name is Minsk. The Europe Hotel, the Ukrainian Foreign Minister is also staying there.”<br/>
            “She could have had a private security request,” Sam offers.<br/>
            “We know she actually left the property, right?” I ask.<br/>
            “What does that mean?” Steve’s eyes narrow.<br/>
            “We thought she went missing about two weeks ago. It turned out she was just in her bedroom,” Clint says bashfully, “But I saw her pull off the property in the rental car. And,” he turns around typing into the computer. The security camera to the airport pop up on screen, “here she is entering the terminal.” Natasha saunters into the airport with her duffel bag. “FRIDAY, run facial recognition for Natasha, all over the world.” We stand in uncomfortable silence, waiting for the AI’s results. Sam subtly nods towards the armchair next to the desk. I shoot him a glare but sit down.<br/>
            There is no data found. As soon as she walks through the automatic doors, she disappears. Natasha never goes through security; she never reappears from the throng of people that she walked in with. Even the security footage at her hotel, that she checked into remotely, comes up empty.<br/>
            “She is the best spy in the world, it would be pretty bad if we could find her that easily, right?” Sam asks, “Because if we can find her within minutes, anyone can.”<br/>
            “No. We are the only ones with AI sophisticated enough. FRIDAY checked every camera in the world. I mean social media, everything on the cloud, anywhere. Natasha isn’t just avoiding cameras right now, she’s hiding.” Clint slams his laptop shut.<br/>
            “Sam and I will go check local hotels and motels. Maybe she didn’t leave.” They head out of the office, leaving me and Clint.<br/>
            “Do you think she’s gone?” I’m embarrassed by how nervous and scared I sound, like a lost child. But I think of how this morning she was checking to make sure I was okay. Was she more nervous than normal? More thorough? Was I too much work at the cottage? Did I finally scare her off? Is this her handing me off to the Barton’s?<br/>
            “Wanda, kid, it’s okay.” Clint approaches me cautiously, “This room is too small for you to lose control.”<br/>
            “Where did she go? Do you think she’s hurt? Is she going to come back?”<br/>
            “She’s never disappeared for more than a month, we have no reason to think she would now.”<br/>
            “A month?” I choke.<br/>
            “But she promised she’d be back by tomorrow. We have no reason to think otherwise, right?”<br/>
            “Except that she lied to us! And that she isn’t appearing on cameras anywhere in the world. And that she mysteriously disappeared in an airport,” I begin to feel lightheaded.<br/>
            “Deep breaths, okay? Nothing bad has happened. As far as we know, it’s independent contracting and an abundance of caution.”<br/>
            “Why would she lie?” I demand, sounding like a petulant child.<br/>
            “I don’t know,” he shakes his head.<br/>
            “Could she have gone on a bender?” I ask cautiously. Clint nods in defeat.<br/>
            “I’ll meet you in the living room in a little bit, okay? You start googling.” I sit on the couch, not even sure where to start. The bender she went on before that Laura mentioned involved killing four different crime lords. I begin to search through Google, looking for anything suspicious. Clint is on the dark web, pulling connections.<br/>
            “Do you think she got into something dangerous?” I ask, looking over at him.<br/>
            “No, I’m sure she’s fine. We’re just overreacting,” Clint has never been nearly a good of a liar as Natasha.<br/>
            “I’m sorry,” I look back down at my phone, scared to meet his eyes.<br/>
            “What for?”<br/>
            “I broke our deal.” I admit shamefully. “I have done a terrible job, and she has been amazing.”<br/>
            “Wanda, you are going to have to clarify,”<br/>
            “Nat takes care of me, I take care of her. You called it taking out the middleman,” He looks confused, “It was right after I took down the hydra soldiers, Laura had just left the hospital,”<br/>
            “You’re upset about that? Kid, I was just trying to comfort you, so you didn’t freak out about me leaving. Neither me, nor Nat, expected you to take care of her. That isn’t your job. You didn’t fail.” He shakes his head. “If Natasha knew that I had even said that to you, God she’d string me up. Don’t mention it to her when she gets back, okay?” He nudges me. I nod. “Good. Now You continue looking through the regular news, I’ve got the dark net covered.” He takes out his hearing aids and sets to work.<br/>
            When the sun starts to set, Laura and the kids come back inside. After baths and teeth brushing, Lila starts to pester us and Clint waves me off.<br/>
            “I’ll keep working, take a break.” I follow Lila halfheartedly up the stairs to her room. The giant pink unicorn is on her bed. Since the day at the carnival Lila has been on a horse kick. Yesterday we watched <em>Spirit</em> and <em>Secretariat</em>. Tonight, she holds up two books.<br/>
            “Lila, one of those is a catalog for horse gear,” I sigh.<br/>
            “Please, Wanda,” she begs. I open up to a random portion of the booklet. I make it through two types of saddles and turn to a new page.<br/>
            “The Whimsical Dressage Whip is the highest of quality for riding crops. Made with only the finest materials and craftsmanship,” I shake my head. “Lila, I love you, but I’m not reading you descriptions of products you aren’t even buying,” She pouts, but hands over a picture book version of <em>Black Beauty</em>. Within ten minutes, she is asleep. I get up from her bed and switch on the nightlight, turning off the bedside lamp.<br/>
            “Thank you, Nate wasn’t cooperating tonight,” Laura steps out of the baby’s room the same time as I exit Lila’s. “Let’s go make some tea, how does that sound?”<br/>
            I follow her down to the kitchen and see that Clint is still deep in his computer search, perched like a bird. She starts to boil the water and sets out the honey.<br/>
            “You know, this is how Natasha and I got to know each other. She didn’t drink tea before we met. It was a good bonding experience. It is relaxing, sitting with a warm mug, nothing to worry about. I was so young then, my God. To think now I have a preteen and another baby on the way.” She places a teabag in each mug, then pours in the hot water. I look down at my mug and am surprised to see it has my name on it, painted in cursive. Laura blushes. “I hope that’s okay. Lila went to a birthday party at a pottery place while you were at the cottage. Clint, Nat, and I already have one,”<br/>
            “I love it, Laura. Thank you,” The mug has red and pink swirls painted on it, along with a stack of books and some strawberries. I think I see what is supposed to be a peanut butter sandwich as well. The handle has been painted silver, undoubtedly for Pietro. Laura relaxes next to me with her own mug. I marvel at mine a moment longer, so touched she went to the trouble of making this for me.<br/>
            “You’re a part of our family, Wanda. We are happy to have you here with us.” She pats my hand. “Can I let you in on a secret? Nat doesn’t know yet, it is going to be a surprise.” I know she is trying to keep my mind off the fact that Natasha has disappeared, as Clint definitely texted her about, but I nod. “We are adding an addition to the house, two more bedrooms. One will be officially yours. There will be a jack and jill bathroom connected your room and Natasha’s. We’re renovating the attic too, turning it into a playroom for the kids, and another bedroom if needed. Somehow, this family keeps growing.” She looks down at her stomach, “Must be magic.” I smile weakly. “After the party, we will go on a shopping trip and pick out furniture for your room and the baby’s. Pick out paint colors too. What do you think?”<br/>
            “That sounds really nice, thank you.” I finish off my tea just as the front door opens. I stand up quickly, rushing into the living room, praying it is Nat. Clint looks up at me, sensing my uneven steps and quickly signs for me to slow down. I feel the back of my neck prickle with irritation. They are all babying me. Natasha at least tries to be subtle. It doesn’t matter anyhow, as it is only Sam and Steve. Nat no where to be found. I must be doing a terrible job at hiding that I’m pissed because Clint pulls me out of the room while the two Avengers talk to Laura. He slides his hearing aids back in.<br/>
            “You are all treating me like I am going to break at any moment!”<br/>
            “Natasha would kill us if anything were to happen to you while she is gone. We are just being cautious.”<br/>
            “I am not going to lose it,” I snap.<br/>
            “No one thinks you are,” he placates. I pinch my lips in frustration. “I think maybe we are all a little on edge. None of us expected Natasha to do something like this. We are all angry and scared. So, let’s just take a breather, okay?” he sighs. “We’ll go back to the living room, keep on doing research. Worse case, we’ll go to bed and start with fresh eyes in the morning. As of right now, we haven’t gone over the timeline she gave us. This is precautionary, okay?” I nod, my fear still not dissipating.<br/>
            Around midnight, Laura heads upstairs. The four of us continue researching, trying to find any trace of Natasha. My eyes are dry from staring at my phone screen for so long. At one, I have to plug it in, using an orange industrial extension cord- the only one available on the property according to Clint. Its pasts two o’clock. None of us say it, but the farther into the day we get, even witch each minute, the less likely it seems that Natasha will be home today. She said July 2<sup>nd</sup> at the latest. Perhaps we are overreacting. But I don’t think we are. Everything is off. Nothing is adding up. There are no high profit crime lords disappearing. No major drug trafficking operations being blown up. Steve and Sam combed for the last shipment of weapons from our botched mission months ago, but nothing. If anything, we have created a slew of new missions that need to be taken care of now that we know about them. Or rather, for them to take care of. I feel myself drifting off as I read through an article about girls in Thailand reappearing after missing for three weeks. There is something about a riding crop. I think vaguely of the catalog I read with Lila. I drift off to sleep.<br/>
            I awake from my nightmare quickly, knowing it’s not mine. It is one of Natasha’s. One I had become trapped in by mistake months ago. Why is is recurring now? It involved a riding crop, a horse whip. That’s all I can remember.<br/>
            “Clint,” I ask sleepily, my thoughts still foggy with sleep. He looks up from his computer, “Does a riding crop mean anything to you?” All the blood seems to drain from his face. At the same time, a pair of headlights flash in the distance, a car pulling onto the property.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>#WhereIsNat ?! Clint knows, Wanda is about to find out. Who is pulling onto the property at nearly three o'clock in the morning? Fury? Tony? You will find out by tomorrow evening!<br/>Sorry this is a bit of a filler chapter, as I mentioned the next one is almost done- it just seemed like too much of a jump to go from the previous chapter to Nat’s POV.<br/>Thank you all for following along!<br/>Stay safe and healthy!! </p><p>Also if you are in a sleuthing mood, and if you have knowledge of the random cities that i have mentioned in the past 155,000 words, then you may be able to figure out what has happened! I play the long game lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>****Trigger warning for violence and implied noncon****</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 31!! I can't believe it- this fic is now longer than the first Harry Potter book! Thank you all for reading along!! Unfortunately, as you can tell from the timeline, its almost over. But!! Part 4 and 5 are on the way!! Please enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            I turn onto the farm’s long driveway. Despite it being three o’clock in the morning, I am wide awake. This is the most alive I have felt in months. But the human part of me knows I messed up. I lost control. Even though the light lights are on in the living room, everyone in the house will be asleep. One of the kids probably went down for a glass of water and never turned the lights back off. I look in the mirror, no visible signs of injury. I don’t actually remember anyone touching me. The mission was supposed to be simple, in and out in three days, and I gave myself an extra two as a buffer. I barely made it back on time. He was supposed to be in his hotel room. I was going to go in and take an empty syringe, inserting it between his toes, simulating a heart attack. He would die and no one would know I was there. But then he went to the meeting at the racetrack and my judgement became clouded.<br/>
            I don’t hate myself for what I did. I hate myself because it made me feel good. That even now, twenty-four hours later, I am better than I have been in a long time. But no one will ever know. I have twelve hours before Steve is set to arrive. This gives me plenty of time to tell Clint and Wanda not to bother him about the mission. It was uneventful, easy. Practically a vacation. They will be none the wiser. I push down the guilt that gnaws at me for lying to them and shut off the car. I walk over to the side of the house and climb up silently onto the porch roof, pushing open one of my bedroom windows, and crawling inside. My bed is empty. I check the guest room, stepping carefully over the creaky floorboard, and find that bed empty too. Where is she? Lila is the only one in her room. Wanda is nowhere to be found. Panic threatens to set in, but I quickly rationalize. She is somewhere in this house. She could be sleeping in the sunroom. I head down the stairs and see Wanda and Clint on the couch.<br/>
            “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” I ask as I reach the bottom step. They both swing their heads around. Wanda springs up from the couch and practically lunges at me, pulling me into a hug so tight my back cracks. “I missed you too, Little Witch,” I murmur into her hair. God did I miss her. My shirt starts to become wet. She’s crying. Why is she crying?<br/>
            “Natasha,” Clint sighs, relieved. I am on schedule, early even. Why would they both be reacting this way? I researched the foreign minister’s trip constantly while I was in Thailand, it went perfectly. The signature screech of the screen door from the kitchen door echoes into the living room. Who else is up at 3:30 in the morning?<br/>
            “That’s Nat’s rental car,” a familiar voice calls out from the kitchen. Sam, which means Steve is here too. I’ve been made. The two enter the living room.<br/>
            “Honestly, it seems a little early for a team meeting.” My attempt at a joke falls flat.<br/>
            “You’re back,” Steve says dryly, accompanied by a mirthless smile.<br/>
            “Where the hell have you been?” Clint snaps, clearly, he has no patience for pleasantries right now. The relief of me being home has melted away.<br/>
            “I had business to take care off,” I reply evenly. Wanda steps out of my hug.<br/>
            “And that business included lying to all of us?” Clint continues in the same tone.<br/>
            “It was a necessary precaution,” I reply lazily, heading towards the kitchen. I don’t know how much they know, how much has made it to international news. I begin to prepare a sandwich. Though I’m not hungry, it gives me time to come up with an alternative story, anything. “Are you hungry? I can make a few,” I look over my shoulder. None of them seem amused. Sam looks extremely uncomfortable.<br/>
             “We didn’t think you were coming back,” She has stopped crying, but looks no less heartbroken.<br/>
            “I promise you I would be back by today. I still had twenty-one hours left to keep my promise,” I point out quietly.<br/>
            “Well you already lied to us about the mission. How were we supposed to trust that you’d be back?” Clint asks coldly.<br/>
            “Now that we know Natasha is alive, I think I’m going to head up to bed. Come on Wanda. I’ll see you all in the morning,” Sam grabs Wanda, pulling her out of the room, despite her protests. I am grateful he got Wanda out of here. I have no clue where this conversation is going. Steve is still here. Though I suppose I roped him into this. No one wants to break the silence. I sit down at the kitchen table with my sandwich but make no moves to touch it.<br/>
            “Nat, what’s going on?” Steve asks, leaning against the counter.<br/>
            “It is nothing, okay? I am back. No injuries, perfectly fine.” Better than fine. My thoughts are finally clear, sharp.<br/>
            “We know you weren’t in Belarus. Nadia Rostov had a flight to Minsk and a hotel room there. You checked into both on time, but we couldn’t find you on airport security cameras, hotel lobby, nothing. You managed to not show up in a single camera anywhere in the world for five days.”<br/>
            “You were spying on me?” I lean forward, glaring at Clint, “Nevertheless, you not being able to see me means I am good at my job.” I take a bite of the sandwich, the peanut butter sticks in my throat. I feel cornered.<br/>
             “Drop it. We already know you weren’t on a mission. And don’t even try saying Fury set it up. The first thing we did was ask him.”<br/>
            “I think you are forgetting I am an adult and can do whatever I damn well please.” I can feel my temper rising. “I don’t need to justify my actions to anyone.”<br/>
            “Really Nat? Really?”<br/>
            “Why couldn’t you trust me? Maybe I didn’t tell you for a good reason? Did that ever occur to you, Barton?”<br/>
            “Why didn’t you tell me then?” He crosses his arms, “Enlighten us.” I can’t very well say that he would have stopped me.<br/>
            “Because I didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge.” I reply diplomatically.<br/>
            “Okay that is some Class A Bullshit right there. Cut the shit, Natasha.” I look over to Steve, who seems clueless as to what is going on.<br/>
            “Thierry Boucher resurfaced,” I state calmly, fighting to maintain my composure. The skin on my back stings just thinking about him. Clint’s eyes soften slightly, but the lack of reaction indicates he already knew.<br/>
            “Who?” Steve asks, his eyes flitting between me and Clint. “Does this have to do with the riding crop that Wanda mentioned?”<br/>
            “You told her?” I shove the table forward, pinning Clint to the wall. She can’t know that. Why would he do that? “How could you? Why would you tell her that? She’s a kid, Clint! She’s a fucking kid!”<br/>
            “Natasha, you’re hurting him,” Steve pulls me away from the table.<br/>
            “He’s fine,” I bite back.<br/>
            “I’m good,” Clint echoes, out of breath, “And I didn’t tell her.” He pulls himself out of the chair and walks into the living room, returning with a tablet. He types quickly into it before dropping it on the table in front of me. “Go ahead, Nat. Admire your handywork.” Steve inhales sharply beside me.<br/>
            “Good God,” he murmurs. I look down at the tablet and see an article. Four men lie on the floor of a racing suite. Their arms are bound behind their backs, a loose interpretation of the word at this point. Their shirts and skin have been shredded beyond recognition. For two of them, even their ribs and spine can be seen. I know he was being facetious, but I truly do admire this work. It sends a message, tells a story. It is fitting. But I still don’t know how he traced it back to me.<br/>
            “How did you know?”<br/>
            “Wanda mentioned something about a riding crop and some freed girls about a half hour ago. Once I knew what to look for, it wasn’t hard to find.” He is trying not to yell, not to wake the kids. “So, Natasha, you want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”<br/>
            “This is the first time in years I have heard even a whisper of his name.”<br/>
            “When did you even hear about this?”<br/>
            “At the cottage with Wanda. She was in the shower; I got an alert on my phone. I couldn’t leave it be. I would have stayed if she asked, but I needed to fix this. Fix my mistake. I had to pursue it. I couldn’t tell you; you would have tried to stop me.”<br/>
            “Yes, I would have. To stop this,” he gestures to the tablet, “from happening.” I close my eyes. I can feel the horse crop in my hands after getting the girls out. I bound their hands and laid them on the ground. An eye for an eye. A punishment the same as the crime. The muscles in my back twitch in memory.<br/>
             I laid draped over the ottoman, my eyes landing on an open door. Bodies piled up, in various stages of decay. It was supposed to be an intelligence gathering mission. They were supposed to be running an underground gambling ring. It was so much worse. I tried to take care of it then, but I was injured. It isn’t an excuse. The leader of the operation escaped. He owned some horseback riding camp or school outside of Geneva, just over the border in France. It changed hands under the table, one day under new management. He disappeared with skill that could almost be called admirable, were it not for the fact that the man is so despicable. I could never admire a single thing about him. My actions in Thailand were justified. I don’t regret it. I can only imagine how many times he has done this, or something similar, since he escaped in 2008. The only one to escape the villa out of the eight men. Then, I had been efficient. Yesterday, I had bordered on poetic.<br/>
            “I don’t regret it,” I state aloud, “These men deserved it.”<br/>
            “You know this isn’t right. What is wrong with you?” I snap open my eyes.<br/>
            “What is wrong with me?” I laugh, “In case you forgot, I am the <em>Black Widow</em>. This is what I am, this is what I do.” I gesture to the tablet. “It’s easy to forget, isn’t? And you know what? Going back to doing this, it is what I imagine walking into your childhood home would feel like. Warm. Familiar.”<br/>
            “You don’t get to be judge, jury, and executioner. That is not how we do things.”<br/>
             “That is not how you do things,”<br/>
             “You are supposed to be better,”<br/>
            “I am better. Isn’t this what you wanted from me all those years ago? I operated on whatever remains in me that can constitute as a moral compass. It isn’t as though I killed any innocents. These people didn’t deserve mercy.”<br/>
            “That isn’t your call!”<br/>
            “I saved fifteen girls. Did you forget about that part? I saved them from having a fate worse than death.”<br/>
            “You could have saved them without doing this. Were they alive when you did this?” I meet his eyes, unafraid. “Jesus Christ,” he shakes his head. “Natasha, you’re a mom now. You can’t do this. What kind of mother does something like this?” It hits like a punch to the gut. He seems to regret the words, but he can’t take them back. I stand up straighter.<br/>
            “Clint, you are letting your emotions get in the way of us having a civil conversation right now. I am going to head upstairs and sleep for a few hours. The three of us can continue this conversation after breakfast.” I head upstairs quickly, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen. I stumble into my bedroom blindly, the words he said echoing in my ears.<br/>
            “Mom?” I lift my head and see Wanda waiting for me on the bed, cross legged, her eyes wide. He’s right. What kind of mother does something like that?<br/>
            “Hi Little Witch,” I force out, “I thought you’d be asleep.” She shakes her head and hands me her cell phone. I see the same article that Clint was looking at. It doesn’t matter that she can’t read Thai, the pictures say plenty.<br/>
            “Did you do this?”<br/>
            “Yes,”<br/>
            “Why?”<br/>
            “He broke me,” I whisper. “I needed closure. I needed to end it,”<br/>
            “Please, I need more than that,” she takes my hand, pulling me onto the bed. I am surprised she wants to touch me after seeing what I did. “Please Nat, I need to understand.” She deserves to know why I did that to those men, the reason for my actions.<br/>
             "Chantilly," I say finally, "It started in Chantilly." <br/>
 </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Before you all hate me for destroying Clint's character, let me start off by saying he is acting out of fear, not anger and hatred! Okay, now that is out of the way!! I love a good mystery, hope you all did too! I have been planting breadcrumbs for this for months now lol, excited to finally be delving into the story of Chantilly a bit! (also, can't believe this story has been going on for months, doesn't seem posbbile!!) Thank you for reading!! Can't wait for you all to see what happens next!<br/>Stay safe and healthy!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>*****Trigger warning for graphic descriptions of violence and references to underage noncon***</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for your wonderful responses to the last chapter- your comments motivate me to try and get out chapters as quickly as possible! You all rock :)<br/>If you were wondering where the breadcrumbs to this mystery were, you can look at the following chapters:<br/>Welcome Home: Chapter 9, 20, 21<br/>Lost: Chapter 19<br/>Hope you all enjoy this chapter!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Natasha won’t look at me. She stopped speaking, as thought she is trying to find the courage to continue. Chantilly. She mentioned it once before, back in Switzerland. I try to remember what she said as she fell apart, right before I started a chain of events that would ultimately result in me losing my leg. <em>It hadn’t occurred to me, until that mission, that what I was doing wasn’t normal</em>.<br/>
            “Natasha, please explain it to me,” I beg. I need to know why the same person who braids my hair and checks my homework would do this. The photos make my stomach twist. But she would never do this to me. I know this. She is my mom. I look up at her.<br/>
            “It was in 2008,” she begins quietly, “I was sent on an undercover mission in Chantilly, France as a maid, really whatever this man needed. His manor sat on a private horse track and he was suspected of running an illegal gambling ring. Not normally something they would send SHIELD in for, but millions of dollars were being funneled through. They thought it might secretly be an underground weapons distribution center.” She pauses, clearly not wanting to continue.<br/>
            “I can handle it, Nat.” I promise her. Though some doubt courses through me. Whatever happened was enough to cause her pain and distress nine years down the road. There is a possibility that it might not be that she doesn’t want me to know, it might be that she doesn’t want to relive it by telling this story.<br/>
            “I had just arrived that day. He was having a meeting with some colleagues in a closed off room. I present a bottle of fifty-year-old Bourbon, knowing one of his visitors was from Kentucky. Thierry Boucher, the owner of the manor, was pleased with my forethought, my gift, as it excited the American. He pulled me onto his lap, and they began their conversation. I thought they were talking about horses for a while, but at they drank the bourbon, got drunker, the true roots of their discussion became clearer.” Her eyes stare blankly ahead, her voice lacks any emotion, “He pushed me off his lap at one point, and onto the leather ottoman. He had this horse whip in his hands, he was walking with it, using to gesture. I saw the end was stained with blood.” She stops talking, blinking quickly. Her gaze returns to me, “I don’t want you to hear about this, it’s not,” she lies down on the bed, “It’s not something kids, anyone, should hear about.” I lie down next to her, her lips are drawn in a thin line. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”<br/>
            “Why didn’t you tell me?”<br/>
            “It’s not something you should have to worry about. It’s my job to worry, not yours.”<br/>
            “What you did, do you think it was justified?” If I can’t know the whole story, if she isn’t ready to share it, then I at least need to know this. Though I’m not sure I want to.<br/>
            “I thought it was. But now that I’m home, I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She is shivering, despite the room being warm. “I thought it was justice, but it wasn’t. It was vengeance. It is disgusting, and I took pleasure in it,” She holds her arms to her chest, staring at her hands like that are still covered in blood. She is in so much pain. Even from the outside, I can see the battle swirling within, threatening to overflow. I grip her hands in mine.<br/>
            “I love you, Natasha. No matter what happened or why you did it, I still love you.”<br/>
            “You should hate me,” she chokes out.<br/>
            “I can’t.”</p><p>            She falls asleep not long after, her face twisted in distress. I wish she would tell me what happened. I want to understand. I could understand. I once thanked her that a man suffered. I have found happiness in people dying, relief at finally killing someone. The adrenaline that has been coursing through me begins to ebb. I push closer and, in her sleep, her arms wrap around me. Even unconscious, she still wants to comfort and protect me. I wish I could do the same.<br/>
            I am in one of Natasha’s nightmares. They are distinct, different than my own or anyone else’s that I have experienced. The are sharp and in focus, vivid in detail. Like watching a film. The nightmare that I had on the couch. I recognize it. And this time, I have a feeling when I wake up, I won’t forget.<br/>
            She lays across the ottoman. Thirty-eight lashes, the man with whip brags. The number of his favorite horse. Her shirtdress is shredded and hiked up to her waist. The skin between her thighs is raw. But she still listens to their conversations, as if nothing is amiss. Then an older woman walks in. Through Natasha’s nightmare, I know this is the head housekeeper. Employed for the same family for thirty years. She looks distastefully at Natasha and opens up a heavy wooden door hidden in the dark paneling of the room.<br/>
            From her spot, Natasha gets a partial view of the space. There are three bodies tossed carelessly to the side. Two of them are almost certainly not yet eighteen. Their blood pools on the floor around them, flowing from the backs of their naked bodies. These girls were killed recently. A muffled cry escapes the room. Someone is alive in there. Natasha tenses. She can’t leave that girl in there, to be brought out next. Her faces presses against the cool leather, trying to gather the energy for what is about to come.<br/>
             The dream seems to flash quicker than humanly possible. Her eyes land on the empty glass bottle of bourbon, just inches from where her limp hand dangles. The man from Kentucky approaches her to her his turn. She reaches for the heavy glass just as he reaches her, flipping over and smashing the bottle over his head. Four others are killed just as quickly. Then the complicit maid who tries to attack her. The whole ordeal lasts no more than thirty seconds. She approaches the secret room. Boucher exits with a naked girl, a letter opener pressed up against her neck. Behind her, there are more bodies in various stages of decay. She meets the eyes of the girl, who is so weak, she can barely stand. He plunges the knife in, shoving the girl at Natasha. In this instance, Natasha has to make a choice. Save this girl or capture Boucher who has started his escape. She chooses the girl. She provides first aid, and by the time the girl is stable, just minutes later, Natasha isn’t. She stumbles over to the desk in the corner of the room where a telephone sits in its cradle. Blood is pouring from her wounds, and she has just enough time to dial 112, before collapsing to the ground.<br/>
            I wake up with my heart pounding and my back feeling like its on fire. I reach under my t-shirt and find it is smooth. Natasha has woken up as well, noticeably calmer than I am, though her eyes are wide. It doesn’t seem as though she noticed my panic. I grab my crutches and rush into the bathroom. I sit down on the closed toilet and bite my fist, trying not to scream.<br/>
            “Wanda, are you okay?” Natasha calls out hesitantly.<br/>
            “Yes, fine,” I manage. “Just washing my face.” I stand up and splash cold water on my face, stepping out of the room. She changed out of her clothes from yesterday and into sweatpants and one of Steve’s old sweatshirts. She looks small. It is only eight, meaning we slept four hours. She follows me down the stairs with some reluctance. When we enter the kitchen, conversation stops. Lila springs up from her seat, throwing herself at Natasha.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat! You’re back in time for party,”<br/>
             “Hi Chickadee,” she murmurs, brushing the top of the little girl’s head with her hand. I look over at Clint, daring him to say anything. But he seems just as tired as us, just as worn down. Steve gets up, offering me his seat. I pour myself a bowl of cereal from the box of cheerios on the table. Natasha makes two cups of coffee, handing me one. Lila chats, oblivious to the tension in the room. Cooper seems a bite more aware and looks between everyone, trying to gage what’s going on.<br/>
            “Did you get hurt?” he asks suddenly, looking at Natasha. “You were on a mission. Did you get hurt?”<br/>
            “No, I’m okay. Thanks Coop.” She forces out a smile.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat got in late last night and we were all waiting up for her, so we’re a little bit tired,” Clint explains. Technically, it isn’t a lie.<br/>
            “The pool is finished,” Lila explains between mouthfuls of cereal, “I overheard Mom tell Dad that it was your idea. And a good one. So that way we don’t have to make such a long walk to the pond.” Did she convince Clint to get a pool because I fell? I look over at Natasha, whose neck is turning red. She gives me a tentative smile, small enough that if you didn’t know her, you would miss it. “And this has a waterslide. The pond doesn’t have a slide. Will you go swimming with us later?”<br/>
            “Lila, we’re going shopping for party supplies later,” Laura reminds her.<br/>
            “Wanda, you should join them,” Clint suggests. Real subtle.<br/>
            “I would like to stay home today, thank you though.” His lips turn into a frown. “I missed Nat and want to spend some time with her.” If I’m here, they won’t be too harsh. I can do something to help, anything. Even if its this small. Natasha remains silent for the rest of breakfast while everyone else tries to be normal, for the sake of the kids. Sam tells a story about how some kids flagged him down when he was in his Falcon uniform to save a kitten from a tree.<br/>
            Laura and the kids leave for the party supply store as soon as breakfast is over. Clint crosses his arms.<br/>
            “Wanda, go upstairs.”<br/>
            “No.”<br/>
            “No?” he raises his eyebrows.<br/>
            “I am not going to leave her.” I jut out my chin, meeting his eyes.<br/>
            “She’s like a mini Natasha,” Steve sighs. I warm at the statement, whether or not it was supposed to be a compliment. Natasha, however, is unresponsive, her eyes trained on the wall. She has a death grip on the coffee mug.<br/>
            “We aren’t going to hurt her, Wanda,” Sam says gently. “What if you and I hung out for a little bit? We could go watch a movie, or maybe go to the bookstore,”<br/>
            “I am not leaving.” I state again.<br/>
            “How about a five-minute chat? Can you and I go on the porch for a quick talk?” I consider this for a moment, my eyes drifting to Nat, who hasn’t moved.<br/>
            “Stop trying to protect me,” I state, as soon as the door closes behind us, “I already know everything.”<br/>
            “She told you?” Clint shakes his head, “She almost killed me last night just for the possibility that I said anything.”<br/>
            “She didn’t exactly tell me,” I feel heat creeping into my cheeks.<br/>
            “You didn’t,” he looks ready to sprint back into the kitchen,<br/>
            “No! Not that, of course not that.” I assure him quickly, “She had a nightmare, and I don’t have much control when I’m sleeping.” He sits down on the porch swing, patting the spot next to him. I sit down reluctantly. “Do you know everything?” I ask.<br/>
            “I have read her mission briefing; I’ve seen the photos of the scene. I know it all.”  <br/>
            “What does Natasha mean when she says that it broke something in her?”<br/>
            “The girl she saved killed herself in the hospital the next day. It was horrible. Nat didn’t understand why the girl did it, which hurt nearly as much. She thought she saved her, that she let Boucher go in order to save this girl’s life. She said she didn’t know her reaction wasn’t normal. Her first honeypot after that, she disappeared for a month. We thought she was having an emotional reaction to the trauma, that the Red Room’s training broke when that girl killed herself. It’s why we tried to stop sending her on so many of those missions. It wasn’t until she came back from Italy that I found out I was wrong for so many years. These missions weren’t harming her, it was the knowledge that she wasn’t reacting how she should. It was a new sense of self-awareness. She thought it was proof she wasn’t human. What happened in Thailand, that was her trying to find some way to expel that knowledge. I don’t think she went in with the intention of creating a scene like that. It was too chaotic, messy. That display was the worst of the Red Room and the worst of her humanity coming together. I can’t let her slip further down that path. She thinks that its justice, that what she did is okay.” I take in what he said, looking down at the chipping white pain of the swing, scratching at it with my thumbnail. The information about the girl, about the times she goes missing. Even now, in the kitchen. I always knew she was at war with herself, but until now, I didn’t know how deep it went.<br/>
            “You’re wrong.” I turn to look at him. “She regrets it, she told me last night. And how she is right now, in the kitchen, should show you how much she hates herself for what she just did. I know from experience that punishing her and threatening to lock her up, it will only make this worse.” The sprinklers start to go off on the lawn, “Clint, she doesn’t need a dad. She needs a friend.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay so that was super dark and disturbing, I'm very sorry. I promise some nice fluffy stuff in the near future! As always, feedback and comments are welcome and appreciated!</p><p>** Side note: Is Chickadee a term of endearment outside of Massachusetts? It’s fairly common here but I want to know if I’m messing up regional dialect lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A nice fluffy chapter!! Enjoy!! Hope you all survived another week in quarantine! Thank you for sticking with this story, I really appreciate it. I love reading all your comments, I honestly get so excited for each one! I still kind of can't believe people are reading my stuff, it blows my mind, let alone that this fic has gotten more than 4000 hits!!<br/>Any who... enough of my rambling! Enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            “Nat, Natasha,” I blink and turn to look, Clint is rubbing my shoulder. We are the only two people in the kitchen. Did Laura and the kids already leave? “Nat,”<br/>
            “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts for a minute,”<br/>
            “Do you want to get changed and go for a walk?” I nod and glance down at my cup of coffee, now cold, before dumping it into the sink. Wanda is sitting with Sam on the couch, I don’t know where Steve is. They temporarily pause their conversation when I walk through the living room. She flashes me a hopeful smile. I try to return it, but it feels more like a grimace. Upstairs, I change into shorts and sneakers before heading down to meet Clint on the porch. I am not looking forward to being chewed out right now. I deserve it, but it won’t make it any less painful. Clint is leaning on a pillar but straightens up when he hears the door open.<br/>
            “Hey,”<br/>
            “Is this the part where you tell me that I’m a liability and I need to be locked up?”<br/>
            “You know I’d never do that.”<br/>
            “You should,” I hop off the porch and my sneakers sink into the grass. We walk in silence for a while, until we reach the pond.<br/>
            “Nat, do you trust me?”<br/>
            “With my life,” I answer automatically, then I hesitate. “Though I suppose that doesn’t mean much,” I sit down by the edge of the taking off my shoes, the cool water laps at my toes. “I trust you with Wanda.” I peek over my shoulder at him quickly before looking back at the glistening surface of the pond.<br/>
            “I need you to stay with me,” he sits down beside me. I nod, watching the water move in and out. “I need a verbal confirmation, Tash.”<br/>
            “I’m here,” I reach down and grab a stone, then flick my wrist. The rock bounces across the water.<br/>
            “I’m sorry about last night. I was scared. You get that, right?”<br/>
            “Of course. Look at what I did. It is the work of a sociopath.”<br/>
            “You’re not a sociopath,” I see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye, “that was the work of someone who when through something very traumatic.”<br/>
            “I’m fine,”<br/>
            “No, you’re not. And that’s okay. I’ve always let you lead the conversation when it comes to dealing with your experiences,” he picks the word carefully, “but we can’t do that anymore. You can’t lose control like that again.”<br/>
            “You think I don’t know that?” my voice cracks, “Do you think I don’t know what I did is disgusting?”<br/>
            “The look in your eyes when you saw those photos last night, you were glowing. Almost like you expected praise.”<br/>
            “Yeah, I am royally fucked up. That isn’t a big secret.”<br/>
            “Do I need to be worried? After you saw that video,” he takes a deep breath, “I need to know where you are right now,”<br/>
             “I’m on the farm, with you and everyone else.” I skip another stone. “Last night I was still riding on this high. How messed up is that? I got high from torturing people. I was proud of myself. I actually thought that it was artistic, coming full circle. Clint, what is wrong with me?”<br/>
            “I want to tell you there is nothing wrong with you, but you’d tell me that is bullshit.”<br/>
            “I believe the term you would use is Class A Bullshit,” I reply. The next rock skips seven times.<br/>
            “Last night, I felt like I had the Black Widow in my house, not Natasha.”<br/>
            “No, you didn’t. The Black Widow wouldn’t have done that. That kind of passion gets you killed.”<br/>
            “When you said it made you feel good, do you still mean it?”<br/>
            “Yes,” I admit honestly, “In the moment, I liked the way it made me feel. I didn’t have control when I was doing it, but after? After, I felt on top of the world, in control of myself, of my fate. The power he had over me was gone. But now, that power has doubled. My actions just reinforced the fact that I’m a monster.”<br/>
            “You are not a monster. Good people can do bad things. You acted out of fear.”<br/>
            “I didn’t know I was doing it until I was done. It was like everything I had been holding onto so tightly for years, Madame B, Ivan, him, everything else, it just flowed out of me. I didn’t even know I could feel that kind of rage. I hate them for doing this to me, all of them. I hate this serum that doesn’t let me experience the world like everyone else. I hate that I can’t say no to missions. I hate that I found pleasure in inflicting pain on another person. I hate that I will never be more than,”<br/>
            “Stop,” Clint places a hand on my knee. “They didn’t make you an Avenger, or a friend, or a mother. Or even a bad cook, that is all you,” I choke out a small laugh, trying not to cry, “You are so much more than what they made you, Nat. So much more.”<br/>
            “I don’t regret what I did, but if I could go back, I wouldn’t do it again. Does that make sense?” I look over him, praying it does. “I regret my cruelty, but not killing them.”<br/>
            “I would have killed him.”<br/>
            “I know, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”<br/>
            “Nat, you don’t have to protect me. I can make my own bad choices.”<br/>
            “I’d rather just avoid the trouble of me having to save your ass,” I joke tentatively.<br/>
            “You’re impossible, you know that?” He splashes me with the water. We stand up from the edge of the pond and I slide back on my socks and sneakers. “Caps going to want an explanation,”<br/>
            “I’m just going to email him the case file from ’08 and home that’s enough.”<br/>
            “You should actually talk to him, Nat. He cares about you. I think he was hurt you didn’t trust him on this.”<br/>
            “No, he’s not like that,” I insist. Clint gives me an indiscernible look but says nothing.<br/>
            “Will you please let me know if you’re feeling like you need a release again? So we can find a healthy way to work through it?”<br/>
            “Okay,” I allow.<br/>
            “I never want you to go through that alone again, okay? You’ve got a team now, Batman.” I grin at him, recalling one of our first conversations.<br/>
             As we walk back to the house, I get a look at the pool for the first time. “I can’t believe you went through with it,” I nudge him lightly.<br/>
            “Well, we like it when you and Wanda come to visit. And we want to do anything to make it easier on you guys when you come.”<br/>
            “You’re such a softie,”<br/>
            “We’re adding an addition to the house. You and Wanda will still both have your own rooms when the new baby arrives.”<br/>
            “You don’t have to do that.”<br/>
            “I know, but we want to. This place is your home too.” I nod, not meeting his eyes. We step into the house and I see Steve is back. He looks at me expectantly.<br/>
            “I’ll send you the case file,” I rush out of the kitchen before he can say anything else.<br/>
            Wanda is doing physical therapy when I enter the bedroom, her face brightening when she sees me.<br/>
            “Nat, watch this!” I see her face scrunch up in pain as she walks across the room without her cane, putting full weight on her leg. “I’m almost there,”<br/>
            “That was amazing, but I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard,” I fret.<br/>
            “Don’t worry, I’m not.” She smiles at me, but then it morphs into concern, “Are you and Clint good? Are you good?”<br/>
            “Yes, we’re good.”<br/>
            “What about you?”<br/>
            “I will be,” I promise her. I don’t have any other choice. “You know what would help?”<br/>
            “What?” She takes off her leg, sitting down on the bed.<br/>
            “Shopping. Do you want to come with me?” She raises her eyebrows.<br/>
            “That’s honestly the last thing I thought you would say.”<br/>
            “Is that no?” I tease.<br/>
            “No! I mean, yes. Yes, it’s not a no,” I pinch my lips, trying not to laugh. “Yes, I would love to go shopping with you, Natasha.”<br/>
            “Okay, I’m going to take a shower, then we can go.”<br/>
            When I step out of the bathroom and walk over to the closet, I take a look at Wanda.<br/>
            “Are those my shorts?” She blushes.<br/>
            “Yes, they are cute,” She plays with the frayed bottom, “Is it okay if I borrow them?”<br/>
            “You already have,” I roll my eyes.<br/>
            “Easier to be for forgiveness than ask for permission,” she responds cheekily. I step into the closet and come out in my black sundress.<br/>
            “I swear, do you ever wear your hair up? It’s a hundred degrees outside.” I walk over and pull her hair up into a high ponytail. As soon as I am finished, she spins around, pulling me into a hug. I’m surprised, but hug back readily.<br/>
            “I missed you.”<br/>
            “I was only gone an hour,” She shakes her head. “Okay, Chickadee, no need to get all soggy. We’re okay, yeah?” She pulls away, nodding. “Okay, then let’s go shopping.”</p><p>            “You must hate that we are in the middle of nowhere,” Wanda teases from the passenger seat.<br/>
            “Are you in the mood to drive an hour and a half to the good mall?” I ask, flicking on the blinker.<br/>
            “I’m just happy to be here with you,” she says truthfully.<br/>
            “You know I’m never going to leave you, right?” I turn off the car in the Target parking lot, turning to look at her. “No matter what. We have signed the adoption papers. This is a lifelong commitment. There is no divorce, no backing out. You can’t scare me off. We’re family. It’s you and me, Little Witch.”<br/>
            “Okay,” she agrees quietly. She is so scared of me abandoning her, how long will it take for her to know I never would? I should bring it up to Sam, ask him to help her work through this. I place the handicap card on the rearview mirror and Wanda makes a face.<br/>
            “I’m not getting into this with you right now.” I warn. She huffs and climbs out of the car. We head into the store and Wanda grabs are carriage, dropping her cane into it. The dollar section is adorned with red, white, and blue She starts to grab glowsticks and patriotic headwear. She passes me a headband that has two springs sticking out of it, stars on top. Her puppy dog eyes get me to put it on, and she quickly takes a photo.<br/>
            “You are such a brat,” I tug on the back of her ponytail playfully, putting the accessory in the car. I guide us into the bathing suit section, the purpose of the trip.</p><p>            “You brought your favorite swimsuit, the Black Stella McCartney one,” she points out.<br/>
            “I want another,” I reply, combing through the racks.<br/>
            “You should get this one,” She holds up a green bikini.<br/>
            “No,” I shake my head, continuing to browse.<br/>
            “Why? You look great in green,” she frowns, and I can feel her watching me. “You hate one pieces,” I look down at the swimsuit in my hand.<br/>
            “I wear one for my job,” I point out.<br/>
            “I know that,” she rolls her eyes. I gather a handful of swimsuits and toss them in the cart.<br/>
            “Do you want to get anything?” She shakes her head, eyeing me suspiciously. I head into the dressing while she waits on the bench.<br/>
            “Aren’t you at least going to put on a fashion show for me? While I wait out here, all by myself?” I step out.<br/>
            “You are so dramatic.” I step out into the hall of dressing rooms.<br/>
            “Not that you don’t look hot, but why are you not going to wear your five-hundred-dollar swimsuit? Why buy a thirty dollar one?”<br/>
            “I want options,” I begin to get irritated by her prying. I look in the three-way mirror and instantly know that this won’t work. I let out a hiss of annoyance.<br/>
            “Your scars don’t usually bother you,” Wanda says softly.<br/>
            “I know, it bothers Steve.” I walk back into the dressing room, trying on another swimsuit.<br/>
            “He would hate it if he knew you were doing this,”<br/>
            “Which is why I didn’t tell him.”<br/>
            “Why are you doing it?”<br/>
            “I think I have caused everyone enough pain this week,” I try on another swimsuit. This black one has a plunging neckline and a high back. It would be suspicious for me to suddenly be a prude. I lied to Clint when I said that sending the case briefing would be enough. I know it won’t be, not to him. But I can’t tell him about all that. The look on his face after Italy when he saw me stumble into the lobby, I don’t ever want him to look at me like that again. I can’t tell him what I let them do to me on this mission. Maybe, if fate is kind, he won’t bring it up at all.<br/>
            “Natasha, are you okay?” Wanda’s voice jolts me back to reality. “You haven’t said anything in like ten minutes,”<br/>
            “Sorry, got distracted. I’ll be right out.”  I slip back into my sundress and drop off the unwanted suits at the front. “You know what? I have a fun idea,” Wanda eyes me out the corner of her eye while pushing the car. “It is a good idea, I promise.” We walk to the home improvement section and I put three large tarps in the cart. Then, a roll of bubble wrap as an afterthought.<br/>
            “We should get squirt guns,” Wanda blurts out as we go past the toy section. I put six Super Soakers in the carriage as well. Her eyes are alight, “I’ve never used one before. The commercials, they look fun,” She glances at me nervously.<br/>
            “You’ll want me on your team when we go to battle,” I tell her solemnly, relishing her happiness. She pushes the cart forward with newfound excitement. She talks about seeing Vision for the first time in months, and how Tony is bringing Peter tomorrow. We reach the cosmetic aisle and I grab the whole shelf of generic shaving cream.<br/>
            “What is that for?” she pauses from her chatting.<br/>
            “It’s a surprise,” We reach the front of the store and the cashier, and older woman smiles at us. Her eyes land on the cane, and then Wanda’s leg, but she thankfully says nothing. Somehow, Wanda snuck cake mix and frosting into the cart as well.<br/>
            I load up the trunk and Wanda sits in the car with the doors open, waiting for it to cool off.<br/>
            “Do you want to drive?” I ask as I slam the trunk shut.<br/>
            “No, I don’t think I’m quite ready for actual roads, with cars.” She plays with the end of her ponytail. I don’t push the topic. The car has cooled down enough for us to drive.<br/>
             “Do you want to stop for coffee before we head back to the farmhouse?” I don’t wait for an answer and pull off to the Starbucks. I feel bad for bringing up the driving thing, I thought it would make her happy. “Do you want to do something fun?” She looks over at me.<br/>
            “You’ve got that smile,” She quirks her lips. I reach into the backseat finding two hats, presenting them to her. She takes the baseball hat, sliding her ponytail through the hole, while I put on the sunhat. “And put on your sunglasses,” I coach. Wanda grins, seeming to catch on. We walk into the Starbucks and it is mobbed with last minute travelers, hitting the road for the holiday. We wait in line, and then when we get to the front, the barista doesn’t even look up at us after taking our coffees.<br/>
            “Can I get names for the order?” he says dully, holding a Sharpie in her hand.<br/>
            “Black Widow and Scarlet Witch,” I whisper. The guy rolls his eyes, but it gets him to look at us. Wanda lowers her sunglasses and her eyes flash red. The guy’s eye widen. “Actually, just make it Nat and Wanda, we’re undercover,” I tell him seriously. He nods quickly, scribbling the names on the cup. Our coffees are done ahead of everyone in front of us, who cast disparaging looks. We get to the car and Wanda bursts into a fit of giggles.<br/>
            “How did you remain so serious? It was nearly impossible for me not to laugh. The look the kid kept giving us, you’d have thought he was on the mission too,”<br/>
            “He was,” I say seriously, “Operation Coffee.”  <br/>
            “I missed you,” she says quietly. I did too.<br/>
           </p>
<hr/><p>            We get back to the farmhouse and we greet the Barton’s. Sam and Steve went to the liquor store to stock up for the party. I go into the backyard and can feel Clint watching me as I lay out the tarp.<br/>
            “Well, Hawkeye, are you going to help or just stand there and look pretty?” I throw him a can of shaving cream. A smile bursts across his face. Soon, we have twenty cans worth emptied on thirty feet of tarp.<br/>
            “Where did you get this idea?”<br/>
            “I read it online,”<br/>
            “No,”<br/>
            “What?” I look over at him.<br/>
            “You go on mommy blogs!”<br/>
            “I do not,” I hiss, taking the last can from him. He laughs and I spray some in his face. “I saw just something about it being fun. It seemed right up your kids ally. I was looking for something to make up for everything that has happened the last two weeks.”<br/>
            “So, is this a mommy blog you go on frequently, or?”<br/>
            “Tell anyone and I will kill you in your sleep,” I stalk off to grab the kids, not truly angry. The kids change into their swimsuits. Wanda and Clint do as well.<br/>
            “I’m sorry, what is this stuff called?” Wanda looks down at her leg.<br/>
            “Bubble wrap,” Cooper replies, watching as I wrap it over the sock on her residual limb, “Its for sending stuff in the mail so it doesn’t break.”<br/>
             “And why am I being covered in it?”<br/>
            “You will see,” I promise, handing over her crutches. Laura holds open the back door, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Lila, Cooper, and Nate race outside. I hear Lila squeal with excitement.<br/>
            “What is it?” She bends down, “It smells like Dad after he showers,”<br/>
            “Is it shaving cream?” Cooper looks over at me. I nod. It is on a slight downwards slope, making it more of a slide.<br/>
            “You made us a <em>cloud</em> slip and slide?” Lila shrieks, her excitement overflows and she runs forward, throwing herself on it. She slides straight down and pops up looking like a snowman. “This is amazing!”  Cooper goes next, then Clint with Nate. I look over at Wanda.<br/>
            “Aren’t I a little old?” Her attitude is a mask for her nerves. “And it’s not like I can do a running start,”<br/>
            “Do it for me?” I ask. “I’ll give you a push,” It’s why I put it on a hill. Laughter erupts from her halfway down as she is sprayed with foam. I stand at the end of the tarp, thrilled with my success, when my feet go out from under me. I have just enough time to see fading red tendrils as I plummet down the sudsy tarp in my sundress.<br/>
            “Only fair,” she grins, throwing shaving cream at me.<br/>
            “What on Earth is going on back here?” Sam asks as he and Steve step into the backyard, cases of alcohol still in hand.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat made a cloud slide, come on!” Lila pulls grabs their hands and they put down the drinks, following her.<br/>
            “I think this may be the most undignified Captain America has ever looked,” I tease Steve when he reaches the bottom, covered in shaving cream. He looks over at me, clearly concerned. “Not here, not now, okay?” I ask gently. He nods.<br/>
            We hose off afterwards, Laura insisting that we all cannot walk into her house like that. She orders pizza as well, eight of them arriving just as it hits six. We gather around the Barton’s new outdoor dining table, big enough for sixteen people. Clint built it himself, as he bragged on the phone a few weeks ago. Wanda laughs as Nate pops the bubbles on her makeshift cast from under the table. I notice, as I look around the table, that I feel happy.</p><p>            Around eleven, I close the door to my bedroom, stepping into the hall. Steve is sitting at the top of the stairs, presumably waiting for me.<br/>
            “You got a minute, Romanoff?”<br/>
            “For you? Always, Rogers.” I follow him down the stairs and into the backyard. We sit by the pool. He hands me a beer, and then takes one for himself. I sit on the edge of the diving board, while he soaks his feet in the water. The only light comes from a few small bulbs in the pool, changing colors. For a few minutes, we say nothing, just staring at the moon and the stars.<br/>
            “I get it,” he admits into the darkness. “I wouldn’t have done it, but I get it now.”<br/>
            “I shouldn’t have done it.”<br/>
            “I would have gone with you. We could have arrested them, had them tried in multiple courts.”<br/>
            “Steve, I didn’t want to put those girls through that. I didn’t want to go through that. Having to be cross examined on the witness stand while he stares at me?” I’m glad he chose to sit out in the dark. I would hate to see his face right now, after I just admitted I was afraid. The pity.<br/>
            “You’re right, I know. I just wish I could have helped you. I am sorry you had to go through that alone.”<br/>
            “So, you would have helped me hunt someone down? Kill them? Mr. Mortality?” I roll my eyes.<br/>
            “Morality is a matter of circumstance, it’s not all things to all people all the time.” I still at his words, echoing my own. I look over at him, he smiles.<br/>
            “I think that’s my line.”<br/>
            “I’ve got your back, Nat. We’re partners, right?”<br/>
            “Yeah, partners,” I smile back.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fluff galore! Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will be out in a few days. I'm thinking this fic will be ending at 36 chapters and then parts 4 and 5 will start simultaneously. Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We are nearing the end everyone! It may end up being longer than thirty-six chapters. It all depends on how I can finish off the final plot points for Lost before moving on to the final part of the series! I'm beginning to lay the ground work so I may be able to do it, idk! Really, the struggle is choosing whether to have the last chapter in Wanda or Nat's POV. I am soooo torn!!<br/>Also, chapter 1 of the prequel (Called Volition) has been posted!<br/>Hope you are all staying healthy and safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            I roll over, stretching, as the early morning sun creeps in through the cracks in the blinds. Natasha is fast asleep next to me. She smells like chlorine and her hair has dried in clumps. I vaguely remember waking up as she snuck in just before dawn. However, as I go to get out of bed, I feel her shift.<br/>
            “Good morning, Little Witch.” I look back over at her. Despite going on just a few hours of sleep, she looks well rested.<br/>
            “Do you want to go out to lunch later?”<br/>
            “Sure, do you have a place in mind?” I think of the little town square we drove through on our way in from the airport. There are a few restaurants.<br/>
            “Yes,”<br/>
            “Okay, I’ll let Laura know not to expect us.” She steps into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I hear the shower start to run. After putting on my leg, I reach under the bed. All the pictures frames from this room and the guest room are under here. I ignore them and grab the giftbag, fixing the tissue paper. I slip into the shower after her then and we head downstairs for coffee. “I saw the present. You didn’t have to get me anything,”<br/>
            “Of course I did,” I roll my eyes. We reach the kitchen and I see the kids aren’t there, but their dishes are in the sink. Sam and Steve are enjoying muffins.<br/>
            “Good morning,” Natasha goes to pour us each a cup of coffee. Clint shoots her a tight smile.<br/>
            “What?” her lightheartedness disappears.<br/>
            “Bruce isn’t coming,” Clint starts.<br/>
            “Why?” Natasha stops adding cream to my coffee.<br/>
            “He is visiting his girlfriend instead,” Sam makes a face that can only be described as <em>nope</em>, and he and Steve head outside, bringing their breakfast with them.<br/>
            “Okay,” Nat nods.<br/>
            “I’m sorry, Nat,”<br/>
            “Did Tony draft up the NDA for everything?”<br/>
            “Yes,” Clint begins.<br/>
            “Then it should be fine. It’s not like she’s a member of Hydra, right? I’m sure they did a background check.”<br/>
            “But how do you feel about it?”<br/>
            “Fine, Clint. I couldn’t expect him to wait until I got my shit figured out. It’s been two years. He can move on.” Natasha slams my mug of coffee in front of me and it sloshes all over the table. “Sorry,” she sighs and grabs a roll of paper towels from under the sink, beginning to sop up the mess. “So, what’s her name?”        <br/>
            “It’s Betty,”<br/>
            “Secretary Ross’s daughter? Really?” Natasha laughs, “God, he must love that.” I frown. Secretary Ross tried to have me arrested and tried for war crimes after Ultron. The only thing that stopped him was Tony making a public announcement about a new team member. And his daughter is dating my doctor, my teammate? I take a sip of my coffee to hide my nerves. I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I had been sent back to Sokovia. I push away my nerves about Ross and think about how I am going to be seeing Vision for the first time in months. “What time do you want to leave for lunch?” Natasha asks suddenly, changing the topic.<br/>
             “Noon?”<br/>
            “Sounds good, I’m going to go to the barn for target practice. Clint?”<br/>
            “Coming,” he chugs the rest of his coffee and sprints after her. I turn to Laura.<br/>
            “Want to help me with Nat’s cake?” I nod. Lila joins us a few minutes later, carrying fresh eggs.<br/>
            “Why are we are making Auntie Nat’s birthday cake today?” she asks. “Her birthday is tomorrow,”<br/>
            “Technically, it is already her birthday in some parts of the world.” I offer, helping to grab the milk off the top shelf. Lila considers this for a moment. “But her party is tonight, because she shouldn’t have to share with America.” I pause. “Oh shit,”<br/>
            “Swear jar!” Lila pipes up.<br/>
            “America. It’s Steve’s birthday too,” I realize with a surge of guilt that I forgot last year too, and we had spent the holiday together. He never said anything, not once.<br/>
            “We’ll do a combined party,” Laura assures quickly. “Shouldn’t be a problem. We can put both names on the cake. Natasha already insisted on no presents, so it won’t be awkward. It will be fine. A regular party for her, surprise party for him.” She opens up the fridge to grab the milk.<br/>
            “Wanda, will you crack the eggs?” She looks over at me from her spot at the kitchen table, kneeling on her chair to the reach the bowl.<br/>
             “Want to see a cool trick?”<br/>
            “Yes!” she lights up. I open up the carton of eggs and float up two with my powers. The red tendrils dance. The eggs crack perfectly in half above the bowl and the shells float back down to the table. “I love your powers,” she stares at me in awe. I look down at my hands. Whenever I look at them, I see weapons, destruction. Its why I stopped wearing rings, it seemed too much like I was trying to adorn a weapon, they didn’t deserve it. I think of them, piled on my desk at the Compound. Maybe I’ll start wearing them again.<br/>
            I wait for Natasha by the car. She walks out with a smile, and I’m happy to see she changed as well. I am wearing a red wrap dress that covers my leg, Natasha wears a black romper.<br/>
            “You look pretty,” she compliments as she unlocks the car.<br/>
            “Thank you, you too.” I hold the giftbag in my hand.<br/>
            “Can I open it now or do I have to wait until we get to the restaurant,”<br/>
            “After lunch,” I laugh.<br/>
            “Alright, tell me where to go.” We arrive at the town square in front of the French bistro. I called to make a reservation, and they laughed when I said my name. I hope they actually took it down.<br/>
            “Did you remember that tomorrow is Steve’s birthday?”<br/>
            “Of course. I gave him his present after we went swimming last night.” She shuts off the car.<br/>
            “I forgot.”<br/>
            “Yes, I think he did that on purpose.”<br/>
            “Why?”<br/>
            “Steve isn’t huge into celebrating his birthday. Unlike me, he doesn’t get strong-armed into doing it.”<br/>
            “Why?” I ask again, following her into the restaurant.<br/>
            “It’s his ninety-ninth birthday, Wanda. They just lost meaning for him. Eventually, they will for me too.” She looks like she is about to say something else, but the hostess arrives back at her station.<br/>
            “Did you make a reservation?”<br/>
            “Yes, Wanda Maximoff.” She leads us over to our table, sitting right by the window. We look at the menus and place our orders. Natasha hasn’t mentioned Bruce.<br/>
             “Are you okay?”<br/>
            “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” She takes a sip of her water.<br/>
            “Dr. Banner, I’m sorry he moved on.<br/>
            “I didn’t know if I wanted to be with him. I still don’t. I didn’t expect him to wait for me to figure it out. That wouldn’t have been fair.”<br/>
            “Did you love him?” I ask after a few moments.<br/>
            “I still do, but I don’t think I was in love with him,” There is something broken about her in this moment, and I feel guilty for bringing it up.<br/>
            “Tonight and tomorrow will be fun. Are we still going to have a water gun fight?”<br/>
            “Of course,” she seems relieved at the change of topic. “And eat lots of unhealthy food, drink, and listen to songs about America. If Clint doesn’t have us do a shooting contest or a potato sack race, I’ll be surprised.” We finish our lunches and I pay the bill after a short debate.<br/>
             Once the plates have been cleared, I present the giftbag. She takes out the paper slowly, purposely torturing me. Her eyes glisten with amusement when they meet mine. Finally, she reaches in and takes out the stainless-steel box. It took me hours, but using my powers, I managed to carve her name into the top in cursive, below is an outline of a spider.<br/>
            “Wanda, did you do this?” I nod, “I love it, I’ll store my favorite knives in it,” she smiles.<br/>
            “Open it,” She does, her eyes glowing. Six black widow shaped throwing stars sit in the case.<br/>
            “These must have cost you a fortune,” she frowns.<br/>
            “You don’t like them?”<br/>
            “No, I love them. They are amazing. Thank you,” She goes to put the case back in the bag and reaches in, pulling out three cards. “Three birthday cards?” She raises her eyebrows. I shake my head, my nerves filling up. She opens up the birthday card first. Then she looks at the other two cards, with years written on the envelopes. 2016 and 2017. I can feel myself beginning to sweat. A smile grows on her face.<br/>
            “I missed Mother’s Day this year and last. I thought I should try and make up for it, even belatedly,” I play with the tie on my dress.<br/>
            “Thank you,” she breathes, staring at the cards, she holds them up to her chest and looks up at me.<br/>
            “You and me, right?” Natasha nods, placing all the items into the bag. We pay the bill and as we get up to leave, she pulls me into a hug. I almost go rigid with shock, but quickly return it. She rarely initiates affection, especially in public. She holds me tighter and then pulls away, her eyes watery.<br/>
            “Thanks for choosing me, Little Witch.” She quickly straightens herself and leaves the restaurant, I hurry behind her.<br/>
            We pulls up to the farm and I see Tony’s private jet. Everyone is here. That means Vision is here. Natasha and I head inside and are greeted with many hellos. Cooper is already pulling Peter upstairs to the room they will be sharing for the next few days. Pepper is holding Cooper, tickling the baby.<br/>
            “We’ll have one like that soon, Peps.”<br/>
            “Will we?” she looks over at him and laughs.<br/>
            “Maybe name it after your eccentric uncle.”<br/>
            “Let’s wait until after the wedding.” I forgot they were getting married, this September. I can only imagine what the affair will be like.<br/>
            “Your boy is in the kitchen,” Sam offers. I rush in and see him. Her turns and smiles, the stone in his head glowing.<br/>
            “Wanda,”<br/>
            “Viz!” I drop my cane and jump forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. I look up at him.<br/>
            “I will leave you guys to talk,” Steve says awkwardly, “Good to see you, Vision.” Vision and I head into the sunroom, sitting down on the folded-up pullout couch. I think of our last interaction. I can see myself on the floor of the shower. There had been so much blood that it went through my shirt, soaking my bra. I sat in the shower, trying to get the blood off of me, so much blood. I was wailing, I didn’t know I had been screaming. But my throat was sore after. Then, a few days later, Vision and I fought, and stopped answering his texts, his calls. I just wanted to be alone. I don’t know how much of that was me or the drugs. Probably both.<br/>
            “I’m sorry Vision. I was cruel and distant.”<br/>
            “You were going through a great deal of trauma. I wanted to give you your space. Did I do the right thing?”<br/>
            “Yes, I wish it hadn’t been, but it was.”<br/>
            “You’re looking better, more like yourself.” He places a hand gently on my cheek. “I have missed you.”<br/>
            “I’ve missed you too.”<br/>
            “Wanda!” Lila comes running in, “I begged and we are doing cake now,” I laugh at the little girl.<br/>
            “We aren’t going to wait until after dinner, Lila-bear?”<br/>
            “No! Auntie Nat doesn’t like it when we sing Happy Birthday, but I asked Uncle Steve and he said he doesn’t mind,” She holds out my cane that I left in the kitchen. “Hi Mr. Vision.” She smiles, “I have a wiggly tooth,” she points to one.<br/>
            “That you do,” Vision laughs. We head into the dining room.<br/>
            “Hey Clint, I saw you don’t have your firepit out, there’s a gas hookup by the outdoor couches. I might be able to fix it for you,” Sam offers.<br/>
             “No, it’s fine.” Clint replies quickly, his eyes darting up the stairs.<br/>
            “Really it isn’t much trouble,”<br/>
            “Sam, shut up. Just stop talking.” Steve snaps. I reel back at Steve’s tone. I have never heard him get so angry with anyone other than Tony. Besides Steve and Clint, Tony and Pepper are the only ones who seem to have a clue about what is going on. Peter glances at me for understanding and I shrug. Laura comes in with the cake, and I notice Natasha is nowhere to be found. Now that I think of it, she has never been around when we sing Happy Birthday. Did the Red Room turn that song into a trigger? Natasha appears a few minutes later, carrying beers for all the adults.<br/>
            “Sorry it took so long, I couldn’t find that one you <em>insisted</em> was in the variety pack Tony,” No one else seems to notice anything was amiss and cake and ice cream are served. I join the kids and Peter in the pool for the rest of the afternoon.<br/>
            “I swear Peter, I don’t know who likes the waves more- you or the kids.” Peter splashes me and I send a tidal wave after him. Cooper flies down the waterslide, followed closely by Lila.<br/>
            After taking showering off the chlorine, I head back out to the backyard. Natasha and Steve are sparring on the grass, while Sam, Tony, and Clint call out scores.<br/>
            “You think this is easy? You’re next, Clint!” Steve calls out after Clint gives him a five out of ten for a shoddy defensive move. Finally, Tony calls the match, declaring he has to get started on dinner. He brought twenty lobsters from Maine. All were caught this morning. I think of last summer in the Hamptons, enjoying it with him, Pepper, and Steve.<br/>
            Natasha sits down next to me, sweaty and smiling. She pulls her hair off her neck, wrapping it on top of her head.<br/>
            “I was thinking we could go shopping Labor Day weekend, get some back to school clothes. We never did get to go shopping in Paris.” She casts a glance over at me.<br/>
            “That sounds perfect.”<br/>
            “Good,” she nods, “And Pepper told me next weekend is our fitting for bridesmaid dresses.”<br/>
            “We are going to be bridesmaids?” I exclaim, turning my attention to her.<br/>
            “I was supposed to ask you, there was a lot going on at the time. I forgot” Her smile disappears.<br/>
            “Don’t worry about it, I’m excited. It will be great.” I don’t want her to slip away. I know that’s what happened in the Target dressing room, and that morning in the kitchen. But when she looks back over at me, her eyes are still bright and present. The tension that had quickly built up in my shoulders dissipates.<br/>
            “Thank you again for the cards, you didn’t have to do that.” I blush thinking of what I wrote on her birthday card. “But they have already become my most treasured possessions.”<br/>
            <em>Mom,<br/>
            Thank you for choosing to love me.<br/>
            Your daughter always,<br/>
            Wanda.</em><br/>
            It only became more sentimental in the Mother’s Day cards. I was sincerely scared that it would scare Natasha off, be too much.<br/>
            “Lobsters are ready everyone!” Tony calls out. We head to the large outdoor dining table where a lobster has been placed at every seat, even one for baby Nate. Laura quickly hands it over to Clint. Maria arrived in the past hour or so, and is sitting next to Sam, their arms nearly brushing. Visions sits across from me; I playfully entangle my leg around one of his. Natasha and Lila are on either side. It is the most ragtag family I have ever seen. And I love them all dearly. I take a sip of the lemonade Peter brought over and begin to eat the lobster. Conversations swirl around the table. Steve and Sam begin a story about their latest mission. Something doesn’t feel right. It’s like there is a lump in my throat, my skin is hot. I reach for my drink but I can’t swallow it. It dribbles from my mouth. Black spots crowd my line of sight. I reach forward and fumble for Nat’s hand. I can’t breathe. Something is wrong. I let go of her and claw at my throat, trying to figure out what is blocking it. Someone is talking to me. People are yelling. Everything is getting blurry. Then, nothing. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you all enjoyed!! As always, comments are welcome and appreciated! Next chapter will be up Tuesday at the latest! Thank you for following along!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I just realized I have some unresolved plot points for Lost... so the fic will probably go to 38 chapters, maybe 40 if I'm feeling wordy lol<br/>Hope you are all staying safe and healthy. Isolation and quarantine have been going on for weeks now, it is strange to have it become the new normal, an unwelcome change. I hope you are all finding a good distraction. Mine is to give my self zero time to be idle (obvious by my frequent updates). If you all have any requests for future scenes you would like, I am definitely open to them.<br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Tony is in the middle of telling a story about a recent trip to Germany when I feel Wanda fumble to grip my hand. The hold is uncomfortably tight. I turn to look at her and see her eyes are wide in panic. She lets go and begins to claw at her throat, drawing blood.<br/>
            “Wanda,” Is she choking? Red splotches begin to appear on her neck and face. I don’t know what to do.<br/>
            “Mom!” Lila screams. The conversations at the table have stopped. I don’t know what to do. She loses consciousness, falling backwards off the bench. I catch her before she hits the slate patio. Her eyes roll back. Laura appears beside me, plunging something into Wanda’s thigh.<br/>
            “We need to elevate her legs, Clint’s already called 911.” I stare in horror at my daughter, fine just moments ago. She now looks like death is seconds away. I cradle her head in my lap. She gasps for air, coming back into consciousness, then rolls to the side and vomits.<br/>
            “Mmm,” she moans and tries to pull away, I hold her down. Laura pours liquid Benadryl down her throat. “Mmmm!” she is crying and thrashes, trying to get up. She looks around wildly, twisting until her eyes land on me. She rests her head back into my lap, tears pouring down her face.<br/>
            “I’m not going anywhere; I am right here.” I promise, holding her hand.<br/>
            “Tony, do you have an intubation kit on your plane?” Laura demands, her time as a trauma nurse shining through. He nods and runs off, Steve right behind him. “Wanda, you’re having an allergic reaction, you’re going to be okay.” Tony and Steve appear, carrying an extensive emergency kit. Wanda begins to choke again, the EpiPen Laura had used wearing off. She stabs another pen into the other thigh. “Nat, you have to move, I’m going to intubate.” She soothes Wanda quietly while working efficiently. I can hear an ambulance in the distance.<br/>
            By the time the EMTs arrive and put Wanda onto the stretcher, she’s barely awake, but the intubation preserved her airway. The male paramedic turns to Laura.<br/>
            “Are you her mother?”<br/>
            “No, I am,” I hold tight to Wanda’s hand as she drifts in and out of consciousness.<br/>
            “You are not old enough to be her mother,” he looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my bare legs. Wanda grip on my hand tightens. Her eyes are flashing red. Fuck, I don’t have time, frankly Wanda doesn’t have time, for this. I will fight my way into the ambulance if I have to. I got to reach for one of my knives with my free hand.<br/>
            “Natasha,” Clint snaps. The female paramedic has backed away from Wanda, fear evident on her face. I turn back to the male and see Sam has him pinned against the truck.<br/>
            “Help her!” I turn to the female. She approaches Wanda carefully and lifts the gurney into the back of the truck. She smiles nervously at me and I see I’m still holding my knife. “Sorry,” I slide it back into my pocket.<br/>
            “You guys are the Avengers,” the paramedic states as she starts a saline drip.<br/>
            “Yes,” I look up at her briefly and then back to Wanda. “It’s okay, Wanda, you’re okay,” I brush her hair out of her face. The vehicle begins to move. “Is she going to be okay?”  I don’t look up from my daughter, her eyes still flickering between red and blue.<br/>
            “Her vitals are strong, you reacted quickly.” No, I didn’t do anything. If we had been alone, she’d be dead.<br/>
            Wanda falls asleep en route to the hospital, and once there, they are able to take out the breathing tube, her condition stabilizing. A regular oxygen mask rests on her face. She blinks open her eyes sleepily from the hospital bed.<br/>
            “Hi Little Witch,” Her eyes are steadily blue staring back at me. She mumbles something incoherently and then tries to pull off the oxygen mask. “Let’s keep that on, okay?” I lower her hands gently. She nods, her eyelids heavy, drifting back to sleep. Her throat is covered in gauze. It reminds me too much of when I found her in Brazil. When I first failed her. The infected wounds on her neck from the shock collar. Waking up screaming, not recognizing her own bedroom. Unable to walk. Bruises covering her whole body. Thin and malnourished. And now, I failed her again. A common theme. She was supposed to be safe. We were at the farm. Nothing was supposed to happen to her. There is a quiet knock on the door, and it opens.<br/>
            “Nat,” Laura sighs, handing me a cup of coffee. I smile weakly in thanks.<br/>
            “You had EpiPens,”<br/>
            “Last summer, Cooper was stung by a bee. He had a reaction, not as bad as this, but enough that we got the pens just in case.”<br/>
            “She had lobster last summer, I don’t understand.”<br/>
            “Allergies develop and change. You couldn’t have known, Natasha. It isn’t your fault.”<br/>
            “I didn’t know what to do, how to help her. I could have killed her.”<br/>
            “But she is fine. And now you know for next time what to do. This was not something you could protect her from.”  I rub my thumb in rhythmic circles around her palm. “You’re doing your best, Natasha. That’s all any parent can do.”<br/>
            “Thank you, Laura. For saving her life.” I look over at my friend.<br/>
            “I’ll give you two some space.” The sun begins to set and the doctors remove her oxygen mask, but inform me we have to stay overnight as a precaution. Tony shoots me a text, informing me of an extensive nondisclosure agreement, to tack onto HIPAA, signed by the paramedics.<br/>
            “Nat?” I look up from my phone. “Can I have some water?” I pour her a cup of water and raise it to her dry and cracked lips. “I’m sorry,” she begins to tear up once more.<br/>
            “Why?” I put the cup back down on the side table.<br/>
            “I ruined your birthday party,” she sniffs.<br/>
            “Wanda,” I sigh, “Scoot over,” She does as I ask, and I shimmy into the bed next to her. “I’m just so grateful that you are okay.”<br/>
            “I don’t know why it happened, last summer it was fine,”<br/>
            “It’s okay, we know now. We will go to an allergist back in New York, run tests. For now, we avoid shellfish. Okay?” She nods and pulls my arm around her shoulders, pressing close.<br/>
            “I thought I was going to die.” <em>I thought you were too</em>.<br/>
            “I wouldn’t have allowed it,” I reply. She laughs softly.<br/>
            “Only Black Widow can tell off death.”<br/>
            “Trust me, he would listen,” I tease. She snuggles deeper under the covers and falls asleep. I follow soon after.</p><p>            “I feel like shit,” Wanda mutters, lying down in the backseat of the SUV. Clint looks over at me from the passenger seat.<br/>
            “We talked,” I sign quickly, not wanting Wanda to hear our conversation, “It isn’t like the painkillers. She’s just tired.” Clint nods.<br/>
            “Happy birthday, Tash.” He whispers.<br/>
             “All thirty-three-year-olds wish they could look this good,” I joke. But then I think of the comment from the paramedic.<br/>
            “Talk to me,” he looks over briefly, trying to keep his eyes on the road.<br/>
            “Assuming I don’t die on a mission, I could live to be more than three hundred years old. My age and my appearance are just going to get further and further apart. Did you hear him yesterday?”<br/>
            “Yes, but don’t let it get to you. Let’s just enjoy today, okay? Just for today, we can try to forget about everything bad.” He shoots me a grin, “I mean, we have Captain America at our party to celebrate America. What could be better?”<br/>
            “You are such a dork,” I laugh, pushing away my concerns. We stop for coffee before heading back to the farm. Wanda is more awake, sipping her iced coffee. “Do you still want to have a squirt gun battle today?” She shakes her head. “You can be referee, how does that sound?”<br/>
            “Sure,” We pull up to the front of the house and put the car in park. I open up the back door of the car and try to help Wanda up, but she shoots me a determined and stubborn look. I can hear the party being set up in the backyard, but follow Wanda up the stairs, scared she’ll fall in her unsteady state. Rather than go to sleep like I expect, she heads to her suitcase and takes out her swimsuit and a red sundress.<br/>
            “What are you doing?”<br/>
            “I am going to a take shower and get ready for the party,”<br/>
            “Are you sure? Everyone would understand,”<br/>
            “I am not messing up two parties in a row,” she says sourly, closing the door behind her.<br/>
            “Nat,” I turn around and see Laura with a tearful Lila.<br/>
            “What’s wrong?” I look at the child and then back to her mother. Laura nudges Lila forward.<br/>
            “Auntie Nat, I’m sorry. I was playing fashion designer,” she hiccups, and I notice the fabric in her hands for the first time. My bathing suit from Target, shredded.<br/>
            “It’s okay, Lila. It didn’t cost a lot of money. And you’re sorry right?” She nods, “That’s what matters. I have another swimsuit I can wear today.” I think of the scar on my stomach and back. “You should go get ready for the party,” Laura mouths ‘sorry’ before running after her daughter. I take a shower after Wanda, who is dour as she scrolls through her phone. While I am in the shower, my phone dings and I reach for it. Wanda posted a photo of me on Instagram, the one from when we went shopping and I put on the ridiculous headband. It’s accompanied by a birthday message and a Happy 4<sup>th</sup>.<br/>
            “Kid, you are ruining my street cred!” I call out as I turn off the water. Her laugh echoes from the other room and the weight on my shoulders lightens slightly. I head into the closet and come out in my bikini, searching for my cutoffs.<br/>
            “You’re wearing your bikini?”<br/>
            “Lila decided to try to design some new clothes. Unfortunately, my bathing suit was a victim.” I find the shorts under the bed with all of the picture frames in this room and the guest room. I will have to put them back up before we leave.<br/>
             “Nat, are you okay?”<br/>
            “I’m fine,” I pull open a dresser drawer and find the black tank top I want. We head downstairs and out to the backyard. Wanda lies down on one of the chaise lounge chairs by the pool and Vision sits down next to her. Laura is cutting up watermelon at the table, chatting with Pepper. Peter and Cooper have begun a game of cornhole. The day progresses and I stand off to the side, feeling out of place. It is sweltering. Soon even Wanda is in the pool, sitting in the shallow end, doing small water tricks for the kids.<br/>
            “Happy birthday,” I turn and see Steve, offering me a slice of watermelon.<br/>
            “Same to you,” We knock them together in cheers, each with slightly bitter smiles. “So, Sam and Hill, huh?” I nod to the two of them, sitting next to each other at the edge of the pool.<br/>
            “Wait, really?” Steve’s eyes widen.<br/>
            “Clueless, all men are clueless,” I tease, taking a bite of the fruit. Sweat drips down my back and I look at our friends, enjoying the water. Steve and I are the only ones not in the water.<br/>
            “Aren’t you going to go swimming?”<br/>
            “No. I don’t think so.”<br/>
            “When we went swimming a few nights ago, you kept your clothes on.”<br/>
            “I wasn’t wearing my bathing suit, Rogers. And I would have swam in my underwear, but,” I trail off. This is a boldfaced lie, but I hope it is enough to distract him from the conversation.<br/>
             “You can’t scare me off that easily,” he states, despite the tips of his ears turning red. “I’m sorry.”<br/>
            “Don’t be,” I reply stiffly.<br/>
            “I haven’t reacted well, since I found out about Bucky, and its not fair to you.”<br/>
            “Not your fault he shot me, Steve.”<br/>
            “Well, it kind of is.”<br/>
            “I’m not playing this game with you.” The watermelon rind is sticky in my hand, "We aren't having this conversation again." I don’t want to talk about this. <br/>
            “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I have been. It’s not even,” He cuts himself off. My mouth goes dry.<br/>
            “What? Not even the worse scars you’ve seen me with? You really want to bring that up right now? Really, Steve?” I’m surprised by the steadiness of my voice, it reflects nothing of the turmoil, the panic, swirling within me.                   “I’m sorry, I didn't mean,” his gaze drops away. “I just wanted to apologize.” I want to yell at him, push him, fight him for bringing that up. But I don’t. I force down my anger, my hurt. I disregard the blood rushing in my ears and the bounding in my chest. <br/>
            “We’ll find him eventually. And the scar is starting to fade, just like all the rest. Soon, you won’t have to see it anymore, and neither will I.” I walk away quickly, dropping the rind in the trash on the way. I strip off my clothes until I am down to my bikini and climb up onto the diving board. I take a deep breath and do a perfect swan dive. The water surrounds me and I wait, letting my senses dull. I control my heartbeat, as it tries to race. I ignore my lungs screaming for oxygen. My mind quiets, and I feel in complete control. Before my body can’t take anymore, I break to the surface, once again slipping back into my role.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you all liked this chapter!! Next one will be out Wednesday, I should be updating the prequel tomorrow if I have time. As always, feedback and comments are always welcome and appreciated!! Thank you :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So close to the end!! Sorry for the delay, I had to figure out how I was going to tie up all the loose ends before beginning the next part of the series. Thank you all for your patience and for following along! I hope I haven't started to bore you all!<br/>I seriously appreciate all the support. In these crazy times, you all pretty much constitute as my social interaction for the day lol<br/>Over the past three months I have fallen in love with these characters and I hope you have too.<br/>Thank you for your wonderful feedback, enjoy!<br/>***Also, the fact that we now have to wait until November for Black Widow is a crime!!!***</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            We had been home for three weeks. Three weeks of going out for coffee, day trips to the beach. We spent a few days in Nantucket. Last weekend, Tony and Pepper invited us to their house in the Hamptons. We even went to the small town in in Connecticut we visited in January. Today however, New York City is being pummeled by its first hurricane of the season. Rain splatters against the windows, and strong winds whistle between the buildings. Natasha and I have found refuge in the library, curled up in our respective chairs. This morning, she had presented me with a stack of book. She announced that if I wanted to reach our goal, established nearly two years ago, of ten languages by eighteen, I had to start Korean now. I wanted to do another Latin-based language, but she said that is taking the easy road.<br/>
            So, while Natasha reads <em>The Brothers Karamazov</em>, in her native Russian, I am struggling through the Korean alphabet. There is a pot of chamomile tea between us, and I use my powers to refill my mug without having to leave my seat.<br/>
            “You know, I already know Spanish. I am sure I could have Portuguese down in a few weeks.”<br/>
            “Probably,” she rasps, not looking up from her book.<br/>
            “Can I ask you a question?”<br/>
            “You just did.” A smirk makes its way onto her face.<br/>
            “Have you ever thought what you would do, realistically, if you couldn’t be a spy, an Avenger?” I am surprised by the sudden darkness that passes over Natasha’s face.<br/>
            “Yes, at one point, it was something I had to consider.” I resist the urge to ask what happened and wait for her to tell me. “I was going to work in translations. It was a good way for me to still do what I enjoy.” She closes her book. “We can start training tomorrow if you’d like.”<br/>
            “Wait, really?”<br/>
            “As long as you believe you are ready. You have been cleared by all your doctors.” She goes back to reading as though she didn’t just give me life changing news. An opportunity to find a piece of myself again, something I thought was gone forever.<br/>
            “So, you really think I can be an Avenger again?”<br/>
            “I think that you are capable of anything you put your mind to. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met. If you want to be an Avenger, you will be. But this is for you to decide. No one is going to pressure you into this.”<br/>
            “I want it,”<br/>
            “Then you will make it happen. Your willpower could move mountains.” She stands up, “Come on, let’s get started on dinner.”<br/>
            I sit at the counter as she makes eggs with the same intense concentration she brings to missions.<br/>
            “Nat?”<br/>
            “Hm?” She keeps her eyes trained on the pan.<br/>
            “I love you,”<br/>
            “I love you too, Little Witch,” she whispers, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes crinkle with her smile. She had been present for the past three weeks, there was no slipping away and staring blankly out a window for hours on end. Instead, when we weren’t on adventures, we would have reading competitions, watch movies, make cookies. I wish she would let everyone else see this side of her, but on the same token, I am happy I have her to myself. The world can have Black Widow, I get to have my mom. She places a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me.<br/>
            “What is the plan for this week?” I ask, taking a bite of the overcooked meal.”<br/>
            “I am having the temporary vocal cords taken out,”<br/>
            “Wait, what?” The already dry eggs feel like sawdust in my mouth.<br/>
            “Tony and Bruce have finished developing the permanent ones. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I haven’t been sounding too hot.” I had noticed that in the past few days her voice was raspier than usual. She had been talking less too, but she isn’t very chatty to begin with. “It should only take a few hours. Then, a day of rest and I’ll be back on my feet. You don’t need to worry, okay?”<br/>
            “Can I come with you to the compound?” I ask as she turns away to grab herself something to eat.  I wonder how much it was been hurting, talking with these worn down artificial cords. “This will be a good chance to brush up on my sign language.” She turns back around, learning on the counter.<br/>
            “I will be able to talk again within a day, maybe two at the worst.” She takes a bite of the eggs. “Oh my God, these are horrible. How are you eating them?” I laugh. “Seriously, Jesus. Let’s head down and get some pizza. I am sure we can brave a little rain.”<br/>
             We pull on rainslickers over our t-shirts and sweatpants. Natasha had purchased them when we went sailing in Nantucket. Black for her, red for me. She also bought Cap a t-shirt that had the poem <em>There Once Was a Man from Nantucket</em>, just to make him squirm. He quickly handed it off to Clint who thought it was hilarious.<br/>
            “The things we do for love,”<br/>
            “You aren’t doing this for me,” I laugh.<br/>
            “I was talking about pizza,” she sighs, teasing me.<br/>
            We step out the front of our building and are instantly whipped with rain. Even Albert, our doorman, didn’t come in today.<br/>
            “Still worth it if it means I don’t have to eat your eggs.” She rolls her eyes, but we trudge forward until reaching the pizza place around the corner.<br/>
            We sit down at the plastic booth after ordering our pizza at the counter. Besides the staff and the two of us, the place is deserted.<br/>
            “I will never forgive Tony for turning you onto pineapple pizza,” Natasha sighs dramatically.<br/>
            “He isn’t right about a lot of things, but I’ll give him this one.” I look towards the kitchen in anticipation of my Hawaiian pizza. “You know, there’s three weeks,”<br/>
            “I know, I have a countdown on my phone,” she admits bashfully, pulling up an app. Twenty-two days is spelt out on screen with animated balloons. The owner brings over our two pizzas. He always waits on us whenever we come in, despite it not being that kind of restaurant.<br/>
            “Hey, no more cane! Good for you, Wanda!” I blush furiously.<br/>
            “She ditched it last week,” Natasha brags.<br/>
            “Nat, stop,”<br/>
            “Oh, she’s just a proud mother, let her have this.” He places down the pizzas, “Two cannolis on the house in celebration.” He heads back into the kitchen.<br/>
            “I am insanely proud of you, Wanda. The past five months have not been easy, but you have really persevered.” I shove a slice of too hot pizza in my mouth to avoid replying. “You don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know,” she laughs, pouring me a cup of water for my burning mouth. I forget how good she is at reading people. Nat combines out two pizzas into a single box and we each enjoy a cannoli while talking to Al.<br/>
            Back at the apartment, I take a hot shower to try to get the chill out of my bones. Natasha is on the couch, a movie queued up.<br/>
            “What are we watching?”<br/>
            “<em>Bride Wars</em>,” she replies. I curl up next to her, my wet hair dripping onto the couch.<br/>
            “When are we heading up to the compound?”<br/>
            “We could go tomorrow if you want. They’d like to take a look before they do the surgery on Wednesday.” I nod, I can’t even remember the last time we were there.<br/>
            “Sounds like a plan,” She presses play and I rest my head on her shoulder. Her chest isn’t rattling, her heartbeat is steady. Everything is okay, we are okay.</p><p>            Natasha drums her fingers on the steering wheel, then glances back down at the speedometer.<br/>
            “Will you just text Clint and let him know I forgot my phone?<br/>
            “Are you that excited to see your car?” I laugh.<br/>
            “I miss her!” Nat defends, her voice cracking like a teenager’s. “She is one of the best presents I have ever received. That is, until you came along and dethroned Pepper as the top gift giver.” She get off the exit, heading towards the compound. I had to convince her not to turn around to get her cell phone when we were halfway through the trip. Her nerves about the surgery were starting to show. “We could drive your car tomorrow if you’d like. We won’t have anything to do.”<br/>
            “That is actually a good idea,” I agree, excited to drive my car for the first time in months.<br/>
            “I have been known to have them.” The facial recognition software opens up the gates to the compound for us. I forgot how absolutely massive it is with all the outbuildings and garages. Steve is waiting on the front steps with Sam.<br/>
            “Welcome home, we missed you two.”<br/>
            “Cap just needs someone who can kick his ass in training.”<br/>
            Inside, the compound is surprisingly quiet. Normally, when Tony is here, the place is filled with his music. It filters into every room. I had to physically remove the speakers in my bedroom as Tony had overridden FRIDAY.<br/>
            “Tony isn’t here,” Steve explains, as if reading my mind. “He and Vision are dealing with some type of Stark manufacturing issue; Bruce is waiting for you down in the lab.” He turns to me, “And you and I are going to start training,” I beam, excited beyond belief. However, before any of our plans can begin, Steve’s cell phone chimes. I watch as his easy-going smile slips away, replaced by the stoic face of Captain America.<br/>
            “What?” Sam frowns.<br/>
            “We got to go. Wheels up in ten. Get Bruce and phone in the rest of the team to see if they can meet us in Slovakia. One of our contacts just announced that they found the last shipment of weapons. They move in five hours. We have to go now.” Natasha nods, rushing towards her weapons room.<br/>
            “You are not coming,” she informs me as she changes into her powered catsuit.<br/>
            “I can’t just stay here; they are the ones who attacked me. This is my last chance to get revenge.”<br/>
            “Learn from my mistakes, Wanda.” She snaps, using a biometric scanner to access the wall of weapons. She slides her batons onto her back, followed by two guns, and her Widow’s Bites.<br/>
            “Well you can’t leave me here.” I huff, “Remember the last time you left me when you went on a mission?” That is a dirty play, but like hell I am staying back. I tried appealing to the Black Widow, appealing to my mother now seems to be my only chance.<br/>
            “Fine. But Bruce is watching you on that jet. If you even look at him funny, I will know. Do I make myself clear? You are not to get off that jet. There will be serious consequences if you do. I will take away your car, your cell phone, the shopping trip to Paris. You will live like the Amish. Do I make myself clear?”<br/>
            “Crystal.” I growl. Natasha pilots the quinjet like a madwoman. I have never seen it go so fast. From the copilot’s spot, even Steve looks like he might be getting airsick.<br/>
            “We’ve got the blueprints to the warehouse, but we should take how accurate they are with a grain of salt. If we’ve learned anything from dealing with these guys, its that they are great at surprising us.” Natasha hands over the reins for five minutes to study the prints until she has them memorized.<br/>
            “Please let me help. I want closure. I need to end this.”<br/>
            “Wanda, you haven’t trained in months. Vengeance is not a good enough reason to allow me, or Steve, to jeopardize your life.” I bite my cheek, holding back an angry remark, and head back to my spot next to Sam.<br/>
            “Nat, you sneak in through the back and let us know what we’re looking at. Once we know that we’ve got the right place, we’ll go in hot. A slow approach killed us last time.” He turns to Sam, “How are we looking on getting Clint, Rhodey, and Tony? Or Thor?”<br/>
            “Rhodey is finished up some stuff in Germany. According to our timing, he should get there about halfway through. Good time for reinforcements. Tony is dealing with a PR nightmare, Clint’s in Iowa, and Thor is MIA. We think he might be in the Australian outback studying astronomical anomalies with Jane.”<br/>
            “I can help,” I offer.<br/>
            “No. You can’t.” Natasha states firmly.<br/>
            “I can. Please, Nat.”<br/>
            “Let me rephrase: You will not.” I sink back down into my seat, fuming. “We’re half hour out. Get ready, kids.” The quinjet begins its descent, cloaking on. We are about a quarter of a mile away from the weapons. “Please stay here, Little Witch,” Natasha whispers, placing a hand on my cheek. I pull away, irritated. I thought I would have been able to convince her to let me help. I thought she would get it, my need for closure. “I’d rather you hate me than be dead.”<br/>
            “Well, it looks like you got what you wanted,” I snap. The hurt in her face is evident as she departs from the quinjet. Bruce hovers by the monitors, watching the video footage from Sam’s drone. I slip over to the lockers, or as Tony likes to call them, much to Steve’s annoyance, cubbies. Inside, I find my com. The CLAM. I sit back and pretend to scroll through my phone, while listening to the team’s conversation.<br/>
            “Black Widow, let us know when you’re inside.” Steve’s voice rings out.<br/>
            “I got the guards in the watch tower. Tony’s little sleep gun did the trick. Launching the drone now.”<br/>
            “I’ve got eyes on the front door. Looks like four guards, all heavily armed. No alien weaponry visible. Just machine guns.”<br/>
            “Just machine guns, what is this business?”<br/>
            “Just because Tony isn’t here, doesn’t mean you have to fill the silence, Sam.” Natasha murmurs. I hear Steve trying to hold back a laugh.<br/>
            “Barton likes my commentary.”<br/>
            “I’m pretty sure that’s because he can turn it off when we <em>aren’t</em> on missions.” Steve can’t help but laugh now. “I am approaching the back door. Silence on the coms, please.” I wait with bated breath. There is the faint click of an electronic lock disengaging. “This is definitely the place.” If she is moving, we wouldn’t know. Her actions are silent. “Eight guards, all are down.<br/>
            “We’re coming in,” Steve announces. I hear a sharp intake of breath. No. There are rapid rounds of gunfire. I can hear electricity crackling in the air.<br/>
            “Do not engage! I repeat, do not en-” Her com cuts off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Only two chapters left!! What?! What is going to happen? What happened to Nat? The adoption is now exactly 3 weeks away, will everything be right by then? Will I finally give them a break? Stay tuned!!<br/>Next chapter will be out by Sunday evening!<br/>Question for part 4 (which finally has a name): Would you all like more fluff? I have a lot of fluff written (like their trip to Nantucket that I excluded, there are a lot of excluded scenes in my monster file of 350 pages lol) but I'm just not sure if people want to read that stuff!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Natasha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Second to last chapter!! What?! I can't believe it, this story has progressed so much from when the series started four months ago. This chapter is a bit shorter, I tried to extend it, but I couldn't without it feeling forced. Thank you all for following along and for your amazing comments, I always look forward to them!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            I feel them snap like a rubber band. The pain is agonizing. My vision blurs as I struggle to maintain consciousness.<br/>
            “Widow, do you copy?” Steve asks anxiously into the coms. I try tapping on the device, but no one is listening for Morse Code. I fumble for my gun as more militants emerge. I spot the leader instantly. Everyone is deferring to him. Steve and Sam will storm the place if I don’t answer. We can’t take on this many people at once. It is just like the mission in March. We are going into battle understaffed. Sending Hulk in here could be disastrous. If he smashes the wrong container, the whole place could blow. I prepare to fire my gun at the leader. His eyes land on me, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. The crate beside me explodes. I fly through the air and my back slams against the metal of a shipping container.<br/>
            “Mom?” a panicked voice echoes through my ear. No. She can’t be listening.<br/>
            “We heard the explosion, but she isn’t answering. The com is still working.” Bruce states.<br/>
            “We’re going in.” Steve affirms.<br/>
            “Copy that, Captain.” Sam agrees. I go to pull myself off the ground and feel a sharp pain in my shoulder. A metal rod has gone straight through, embedding itself into the crate. I try banging on the metal, but considering the ricocheting bullets, it does little to alert the team of my status. Tony and Bruce had finished the cords two weeks ago. I put off the surgery to try and spend time with Wanda. Quality time. Normal mother daughter trips. She deserved it.<br/>
            <em>“You know, I didn’t used to like the water very much,” she plays with the ends of her long auburn hair, damp from the pool. Pepper and Tony are inside it’s just the two of us.<br/>
            “What changed your mind?” I prop myself up on my elbows, getting a better look at her. She is sitting cross legged on the lounge chair, her eyes squinting against the late July sun.<br/>
            “When I’m in the water, it’s easier to forget. Gravity isn’t holding me down.”<br/>
            “We can get a vacation home with a pool if you’d like. Or a lake house.”<br/>
            “Just like that?” she asks, quirking up an eyebrow.<br/>
            “Just like that.” I smile back at her. “But someday you are going to jog, run, sprint. It is going to happen. We can hike mountains, go roller skating. Whatever you want.”<br/>
            “Yeah?”<br/>
            “Of course. You have your driving test in two weeks. Just last month you thought you’d never drive again. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”<br/>
            “You and me.”</em><br/>
            “Falcon, do you have eyes on Widow?” Steve’s voice brings me back to the present. The world swims in front of me. I promised her I’d be there. I can’t leave, I can’t die.<br/>
            “Negative, Captain. There’s blood on the floor.” I look at the gunshot wound on my thigh.<br/>
            “Guys, we have a problem. Scarlet Witch is AWOL.” No, she is not coming here. This is all my fault. I should have gotten the stupid surgery done. I need to get up, before she gets here. I can’t let Wanda endanger herself. I try to pull on the pole, but it doesn’t budge. I am going to have to drag myself through it. It is like a twisted game of tug-of-war. I pull forward, the pain is blinding. Wanda. I have to get to Wanda.<br/>
            “ETA on War Machine?” Cap groans. I hear more gunshots.<br/>
            “Twenty-minutes out.”<br/>
            “Black Widow, do you copy?” Sam asks, sounds desperate, “Fuck, do you think she’s?” I close my eyes, trying to find the strength to go the last six inches.<br/>
            “Black Widow, please confirm status,” her voice rings out again. She is beginning to sound less afraid, anger taking over. Anger is hard to control.<br/>
            “Wanda, where are you? Get your ass back to the ship.” Sam snaps.<br/>
            “No.” Her voice is firm and stubborn. She is going to get herself killed. I push myself forward one last time and stumble, falling to the ground. My hands scrape against the concrete, skinned and bloody. The left side of my suit is soaked. The pole was about two inches in diameter, a glance at the gaping hole makes me wish I hadn’t looked. I have to stop Wanda. Let her know I’m okay. I’m alive.<br/>
             I crawl out from behind the debris, forcing myself onto my feet just in time to see the doors to the warehouse blow of their hinges. Wanda is glowing. Her eyes and hands burn fiercely, energy flowing out of her. She walks forward in complete control. She is past the point of outraged, she is calm. All the weapons that come her way are deflected with ease, bouncing off a forcefield. The battle seems to part for her. Steve and Sam are too engrained in their own fights to assist her. Though one can tell she doesn’t need help.<br/>
            “Where is she?” she demands, stopping in front of the man who had been barking orders.<br/>
            “Dead.” He grins. I need to get out there, I’m not dead. Her face doesn’t crumple into tears, it hardens. “First, we took your leg, now we’ve taken Black Widow. Next, your life,” He reaches for his gun. Wanda flicks it away with ease, all of his weapons are removed.<br/>
            “You killed her. You killed my mother.” The rebel's face frowns.<br/>
            “Your mother? Black Widow?” he laughs. I try to yell to her, but no sound comes out. I am getting closer. I can see the streaks of dried tears. She clenches and unclenches both of her fists, tendrils of red reaching out. I watch in a mix of horror and awe as each militant takes their gun and raises it under their chin. They all go off at the same moment. The army drops to the ground, dead. Defeated.<br/>
            “You killed her.” She turns to the leader, the last living member of this weapons ring. She brings him down to his knees.<br/>
            <em>Don’t make him suffer, Little Witch</em>, I silently implore. <em>Don’t torture him. Learn from my mistakes</em>. She turns suddenly in my direction. She heard me. I stagger into the open center, surrounded by the carnage of battle.<br/>
            “Mom,” she breathes, limping towards me, turning her back on the ringmaster of this awful operation. I see him lunge for one of his fallen comrade’s guns. She showed him mercy, and this is his thanks. I reach for my knives, guns long gone. I throw both and they whistle through the air. One is embedded in each eye. Wanda turns to look behind her and then back at me, “Mom,” I collapse to the floor, the blood flowing faster after moving my shoulder. My heart is beating too quickly. I try to school it into slowing down. It isn’t working.<br/>
            “Bruce, we need medical extraction, ASAP,” Cap commands, running over. I forgot he and Sam were even here.<br/>
            “Nat, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” I smile at her, placing a hand on her cheek. She crumples, the hardened face of battle disappearing. The face of my sensitive daughter takes its place. The girl who cries at happy endings in movies and sends me pictures of baby animals. Who is smart and headstrong. Kind and giving. Mine. She’s okay. I blink sleepily, succumbing to the blood loss. “I don’t hate you. I didn’t mean that. I could never hate you. I love you, and you don’t get to die. Okay? You aren’t allowed to leave me. We have plans.” She puts pressure on the wound. “You’re supposed adopt me. We are going to go on adventures. We’re going to see the world, not just save it. You promised, please, you promised. You’re Black Widow, you tell off death, and he listens. You don’t get to leave. I love you, and that’s enough. That is enough to make you stay.” <em>I love you too, Little Witch.</em></p>
<hr/><p><br/>
            I feel a head resting on my uninjured shoulder and force my eyes open. Wanda is curled up against me, asleep. She grips my t-shirt in her sleep. I look over and see Clint asleep in an armchair. Movement in the doorway catches my eye. Steve smiles at me.<br/>
            “Romanoff,” He enters the room, leaning against the wall.<br/>
            “Rogers,” I whisper back. They did the surgery. Wanda shifts up against me, waking up.<br/>
            “Nat! You’re awake,” her exclamation causes Clint to stir as well.<br/>
            “Hi,” I feel the painkillers coursing through me. “How long?”<br/>
            “Three days,” Clint answers. “They kept you under to give your body time to heal. You’re not exactly known for being good at bedrest.” He teases, “I’m going to give Laura a call, let her know you’re awake.” Clint slips out of the room.<br/>
            “I’m glad you’re okay,” Steve smiles. I think of when we first met, just six months before the Battle of New York. Things were so different; I was so different, so was he. “I can’t lose my partner,”<br/>
            “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” I reply groggily as he leaves. Wanda sits up, turning to face me. “I’m okay,”<br/>
            “I thought you died,”<br/>
            “I wouldn’t let that happen.” I can feel sleep calling me once more. I try to stay awake, to comfort her. She just killed at least thirty people and watched me almost die.<br/>
            “You should rest,” she lies back down next to me. I can feel her tears through the thin cotton of my shirt. “You and me, right?”<br/>
            “You and me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>All the feels!! Thank you for reading! The last chapter will be out by Wednesday or Thursday! The next chapter of Volition should be up by Tuesday. Part 4 of the series, Kindred, will start by the end of this week. I have a general plot outline for Kindred, but if you have anything you want to see, don't hesitate to ask! I heard you all and will be adding in more fluff! As always, feedback and comments are always welcome!!<br/>Thank you again!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Wanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all so much for your continued support with this series! Writing this has served as an excellent distraction for me during these difficult times, though when I started I had no idea how much the world would change. I hope it has been able to take your mind off everything going on as well, at least for a little while. Your comments, especially those of my consistent commenters, mean so much. I look forward to them with every chapter I post. Finishing Lost is bittersweet, but being the sentimental person I am, I have added a Part 4. (These scenes were originally supposed to be the end of the series). Kindred will be starting this weekend. Once again, thank you all for reading along and loving these characters as much as I do! -Carly</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            The grass shifts under my feet as I veer off the path. This is my first time here since the funeral almost two years ago. I hardly remember the day, my head and heart still swarming with grief. I reach the grave and see fresh flowers. The headstone is polished, recently cleaned. Someone else is looking after Pietro in the wake of my neglect. <em>Pietro Maximoff: Brother, Friend, Hero. November 29, 1999- November 23, 2015. </em>Forever fifteen. Thinking back, I realize now there was a parade the day of his funeral. The day was picked to give us privacy. It was Thanksgiving, and I haven’t come back since. Until today. Guilt begins to build up steadily in my chest, threatening to overflow.<br/>
            I sit down at the grave, leaning my back up against it. The stone, in the shade of a large oak tree, is cool. A contrast to the rest of the cemetery, which is hot under the early morning August sun.<br/>
            “Hi Piet,” I murmur, “Sorry for not visiting.” I feel silly, talking to a rock, but at the same time, it is comforting. Like perhaps he could really be here. “As you can see, I am not really the same anymore, not quite whole,” I look down at my leg, “But I guess I haven’t been since you died.” An elderly woman walks by with someone who looks to be her son, but neither pay me any mind. “I’m being adopted today. I don’t think you ever met her, but she is wonderful. She is kind and generous, she will give until she has nothing left, and then give a little more. She believes everyone can be saved, even me. You gave me her jacket, that day, when we went into battle.” I think now well-worn leather jacket in my closet, soft and supple from years of wear. “I’m keeping our last name. It was her idea. She is scared that I will think she is trying to replace Mama and Papa. She isn’t. Love doesn’t have limits like that, I don’t think she knows.” The woman who slept outside my bedroom door, who checks on me every night, who’s heart is too big. “But I am happy to keep our last name, a way to hold onto you, to honor you. I am sorry for not visiting sooner, it was too hard. Thinking about you not being here. Sam said I never allowed myself to grieve properly and he is right. I didn’t. I threw myself into this new world instead.” I shift and pull my knees to my chest, “I’m here now though,” I find myself telling him about starting my senior year, about Peter, about the Barton kids, Vision. I tell him twenty-one months’ worth of memories. “And today on August 21<sup>st</sup>, at eleven o’clock, I will officially be Natasha’s daughter. I just wanted you to know I’m not alone. I hope you aren’t either. I hope you are with Mama and Papa. Baba too. I am sorry I couldn’t protect you after how much you had protected me. I’m sorry that I am here, and you aren’t. But mostly, I am sorry that the world will never get to see the man you were meant to be.” I pull myself up and place a kiss on the top of his headstone. “I love you Piet.”<br/>
            I pull my car into the garage and greet the staff in the lobby before heading up into the apartment. The bellhop, a slight man in his early twenties, hands me a bouquet of flowers.<br/>
            “These are from all of us. Albert told us today is the big day, and we just wanted to say we’re happy for you. You guys deserve it,” The tips of his ears are bright red.<br/>
            “Thank you, Connor.” I hold the massive collection of flowers in my hand. He rushes away, back to his computer.<br/>
            Natasha is in the kitchen making pancakes, still in her pajamas. She is dancing in the kitchen to the Beatles. Her red hair swishes back and forth in its ponytail, she pauses only to sip her coffee. I set my keys down on the counter and she spins around with a smile.<br/>
            “Those are beautiful,” her eyes land on the flowers.<br/>
            “They were a gift from the guys downstairs,”<br/>
            “That is so sweet and thoughtful,” She takes a vase out of the cabinet and hands it to me. “How many would you like?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, plopping three pancakes on a plate. She downs her protein shake quickly, and then steals a bite of my breakfast. She doesn’t pry about where I was this morning, why I left the house at seven o’clock, and I’m grateful. A mug of coffee appears in front of me.<br/>
            “Thank you.” I finish off the pancakes.<br/>
             “Now, go get ready. We can’t be late.” She nudges me out of the kitchen while she cleans up, despite my insistence that I can help. “We have to leave here in two hours,” she calls over the running water of the sink as I slip down the hall.<br/>
            I stare at myself in the mirror. The maroon dress falls just to my knees. Natasha surprised me with it a few days ago, along with a pair of pristine white leather sneakers. I put on my last bit of makeup, frowning at the glint of the scar on my lip. There is a knock at my bedroom door.<br/>
            “Come in,” Natasha steps into the room, still not dressed. This is despite her nagging me to hurry up all morning, so we won’t be late.<br/>
            “You look gorgeous,” I feel my cheeks flush.<br/>
            “Will you do my hair?” I step out of the bathroom and go over to my desk, sitting down. Her fingers work quickly, and I find the familiarity of the movement relaxing. It all seems too good to be true. Like if I blink, this will all go away.<br/>
            “Done,” I head back over to the mirror and look. A half-crown braid encircles my head, the remaining hair falling in loose waves. “I’m going to finish getting ready, we’ll leave in ten minutes?”<br/>
            The girl staring back at me in the mirror is so different than the one Natasha found on the helicarrier. When she wrapped me in a blanket as I sobbed over Pietro’s body, before stumbling into medical. She hasn’t stopped taking care of me since. I smooth out my dress one more time and grab my cardigan and purse, the same purse Natasha gifted me on our first shopping trip. I step out into the hall and find Natasha at the kitchen counter, her back to me. The scar from three weeks ago still bright and angry on her shoulder. She turns around and smiles at me, as if sensing my presence, though I didn’t make a sound. Her white cotton sundress poofs out as she turns. It is a genuine and bright smile, the kind that warms your soul.<br/>
            “I have something for you,” she presents a black box, “Happy Gotcha Day,” I pull back the red ribbon and remove the lid. A silver necklace with a lightning bolt lays on velvet. It is reminiscent of her arrow necklace from Clint. Though I know who this is for. “He should be here, I’m sorry he isn’t.” I bite back my tears.<br/>
            “Thank you, I love it.”<br/>
            “May I?” I nod. She picks up the necklace and sweeps my hair to the side. I feel the cool silver lightning bolt rest on my chest.<br/>
            “Natasha, you are going to ruin my makeup before we even get out the door,” I cry, tilting my head back to stop my tears from running down my cheeks. I manage to control them and get a better look at her. Nat’s long red hair is curled, and she wears hardly any makeup, but glows nonetheless.<br/>
            “What?” she looks down, “Is there something wrong with my outfit?”<br/>
            “No, you just look,” I pause trying to find the right word, “happy.”<br/>
            “That’s because I am,” she places a hand on my arm, not even noticing as it brushes the scar from when I bit through my own skin. “Now come on, we can’t be late.”<br/>
            “I love you,” I turn to her in elevator.<br/>
            “I love you too,” she smiles, squeezing my hand quickly before stepping out into the lobby.<br/>
            The valet hands Nat the car keys to her Porsche and we climb in. Natasha won’t say it, but I know getting this car back was a relief. She also says my silly little cards beat the Porsche as her favorite birthday present, but I don’t buy that. The drive to the courthouse is quick, even with weekday traffic. It takes only ten minutes, finding a parking spot actually takes longer. I eye the handicap tag in the mirror.<br/>
            “Are you sure you want me?” I ask fearfully.<br/>
            “Wanda, you cannot be serious.” Natasha sighs, pressing the button for the roof to fold back onto the car.<br/>
            “I’m broken, I’m not whole. Besides that, I will be eighteen in a few months. What is the point?”<br/>
            “Being a parent doesn’t end the moment a child turns eighteen. You’re stuck with me for life.” She shuts off the car, “No matter the decision the judge makes today, you are already my daughter.” Her lips twitch, the only indication that she is nervous, unsure, as her voice is steady and strong. “Do you still want me to adopt you?” I involuntarily see the flashes of me telling her I hate her, of telling her she’s not my family, not my mom. I thank God for my sunglasses. My chest burns with shame.<br/>
            “More than anything in the world,” I exclaim, “Nothing would make me happier,” She grins, relief spreading across her face.<br/>
            “Then let’s do it,” I am pleasantly surprised that reporters do not accost us as soon as we step out of the car. We have to go through metal detectors to reach the lobby. The security guard stands firm, despite the sweat trickling from his hairline. I watch Natasha sigh heavily, though I can’t imagine what she is hiding in a white sundress.<br/>
            A lot. The answer is a lot.<br/>
            She pulls a set of skin colored throwing knifes out from one leg, and a matching handgun from the small of her back. She takes off her block heeled sandals, popping open the heels themselves. From each, she removes two Widow’s Bites. From the other leg she removed a sleeve of taser disks. Lastly, she takes off one of her bracelets, unfurling it to reveal it is actually a garrote. I try not to laugh at the slack jawed security guard.<br/>
            “Seriously, Nat? That is all you could bring?” I turn and see Clint and Laura. Clint nudges Natasha playfully, looking at the display of weapons on the table.<br/>
            “Where are the kids?” Natasha asks.<br/>
            “At the tower with Vision,” Laura explains. “We didn’t think three jet-lagged kids should be in a courtroom, no matter the occasion.” Through her flowing blouse, I can just catch a glimpse of the baby bump. During a facetiming session two weeks ago, we learned they are having another girl. Lila was practically jumping out of her skin in excitement.<br/>
            Clint begins to remove his weapons as well, and soon Tony and Pepper walk through the doors, Tony following the same procedure.<br/>
            “For God’s sake people, didn’t you know you were coming into a courthouse?” The security guard exclaims.<br/>
            “Just let them keep it all, we’ll all be better off,” Rhodes jokes as he walks in. The guard sighs, shutting off the machine.<br/>
            “Just go, I can’t today. But you all have to vouch for me if I’m fired,” He hands the assortment of weapons back to a barefoot Natasha, who quickly puts everything back in place. Soon, every Avenger is gathered in the hall, so many of us hadn’t been together since Christmas. Fury is the only one absent, as he is still technically dead.<br/>
            “Where’s your attorney?” Sam asks, looking at the crowd of Avengers.<br/>
            “Natasha is a lawyer,” Hill replies, standing close to Sam. The two of them arrived together. I honestly cannot imagine Maria Hill dating anyone, but here we are.<br/>
            “Wait, you’re actually a lawyer? Natalie from Legal?” Tony sputters.<br/>
            “It was a better cover for her to actually know what she was talking about, not just be a notary.” Hill explains coolly. The doors to the courtroom open and we are greeted by the judge. She takes in the eclectic group and steps out of the way, her black robes swishing. Natasha and I sit at the front of the front of the room, while the seats behind us fill up. I know there will be even more people at the party later. For now, it is just the team and Laura.<br/>
            “Hi everyone, thank you for coming today to support this special occasion,” the judge smiles amicably, “Let's begin." She shuffles some papers on the stand, "I received written character statements from Captain American and President Ellis, that is a first.” The judge’s eyes land over my shoulder, probably on Steve who arrived just before we stepped into the room. <br/>
            She calls Natasha up to the stand. Last night, as we went over the plan for the day, she assured me that it was normal. Expected. That it was nothing to worry about. My heart still pounds as she sits behind the wooden podium.<br/>
            “Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”<br/>
            “I do,” Natasha answers, and for the first time, she probably means it. Her eyes sparkle as they land on me.<br/>
            “Please state your name for the court,” I can see her trying to hold back a smart remark, asking which one.<br/>
            “Natasha Romanoff, previously known as Natalia Alianova Romanova.”<br/>
            “Date of birth?”<br/>
            “July 4<sup>th</sup>, 1984.” The judge pauses at this, looking at Natasha, but blessedly makes no comment. There are a few other questions, such as address and place of employment. That elicits a snort from Tony which is quickly cut off. I don’t turn around to look, but I assume Pepper has something to do with it.<br/>
            “Miss Maximoff has sustained serious and life altering injuries under your care, has she not?” The judge asks dryly. I see hurt flash across Nat’s face.<br/>
            “That wasn’t her fault!” I burst out, before Nat can answer. I feel someone tug at my arm, trying to pull me back into my seat. “There were terrorists!” I glare at the judge, my heart pounding. That can’t be the reason Natasha doesn’t get to adopt me. That isn’t right.<br/>
            “Wanda, honey, calm down.” Natasha soothes, rubbing my shoulders. I was so focused on the judge I didn’t see her leave the witness stand. My gaze moves down to my hands, glowing red. I quickly shove the sleeves of my cardigan over them, muffling the magic. I sink back into my seat, embarrassed by the outburst.<br/>
            “It wasn’t her fault. And she did everything she could to right the situation. She got me the best medical care in the world. She flew in a surgeon from South Korea, hired prosthetists from Boston, paid to have a physical therapist come to our apartment three times a week. You don’t get to decide that it was irresponsible to have me on the team, the World Security Council decided it was okay two years ago. And you <em>definitely</em> don’t get to blame her for what happened. I am an Avenger; it is part of the risk.”<br/>
            “Wanda, please, she’s our judge,” Natasha reminds me quietly.<br/>
            “Your honor,” I tack on hastily. Thankfully, the judge doesn’t seem miffed by my tantrum or the flare-up of my powers. Sensing my anger has subsided, Natasha rises from being crouched down next to me and heads back to the stand.<br/>
            “I’m sorry your honor, Wanda has a bit of a temper.”<br/>
            “It says here you have her in therapy?”<br/>
            “Yes, weekly sessions,” I blush, embarrassed to having my mental health discussed.<br/>
            “Wanda, I admire your effort to defend Natasha. These are special circumstances; I am aware of that. It will play into my decision. There are certain questions I must ask. Do you understand?”<br/>
            “Yes, your honor. Sorry,” I play with the hem of my sweater.<br/>
            “You are aware this is a permanent and lifelong commitment?”<br/>
            “Yes.” Natasha looks over to me.<br/>
            “And you are prepared for all the responsibilities that come with being a parent?”<br/>
            “Yes, your honor.” She is dismissed from the stand and rejoins me at our table. We reach for each other’s hands at the same time, a tight grip from both of us.<br/>
            “Miss Maximoff, do you want to be-”<br/>
            “Yes!” I blurt out. This elicits a laugh from the judge. “Sorry,”<br/>
            “Do you want to be adopted by Natasha Romanoff?”<br/>
            “Yes, your honor,” I reply, with much more control. The judge smiles.<br/>
            “Today, August 21<sup>st</sup>, 2017, Natasha Romanoff is officially the legal parent of Wanda Maximoff.” The gavel strikes the table. We stand up and I turn to Natasha, throwing myself into a hug. She laughs, a real laugh. A sound I have rarely heard, it is light and happy.<br/>
            “My mom,” I grin, pulling away.<br/>
            “My daughter,” she replies shyly, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear.<br/>
            We pose for photos and are met with congratulations all around. The judge hands us the signed documents.<br/>
            That night, we return from the small party that Tony insisted on throwing. Though it was truly anything but small. There were caterers and waitresses walking around with appetizers. A large banner read <em>Congratulations Red and Little Red!</em> The spacious penthouse was thankfully not crowded despite the party’s size. I spoke with our friends. Even Thor was there with his girlfriend Jane. Though I was overjoyed to see everyone, I wanted to be with Natasha. But that proved more difficult than I thought. She always disappears at parties. She either hides behind a bar serving drinks or is off to the side with Clint, sometimes Steve. However, it isn’t until the party is over that I find her. She is sitting on the couch, waiting for me. The penthouse is almost completely empty, save for the cleanup crew and a very tired Tony who waves goodbye, heading to bed. The other Avengers have all made their way to their former suites.<br/>
            “Ready to go home?” she asks, rising gracefully from her seat. I nod, exhausted.<br/>
            Natasha drops her keys in the catchall as we enter the apartment, then slides off her heels. She kisses my forehead and heads to her bedroom. The shower begins to run. I change into my pajamas, hanging the dress back up in my closet, and head into the kitchen. By the time I am done making the two cups of tea, the water has turned off. I head into here bedroom, walking carefully to make sure no tea sloshes out. After placing a mug on her nightstand, I head to the other side, lying down with my cup. She emerges from the bathroom a few moments later, smelling of lavender and an assortment of creams. A smile blooms across her face when she sees me.<br/>
            “How did I get so lucky?” she murmurs, settling down beside me. I don’t know if she is speaking to me or herself.<br/>
            “I didn’t see you at all tonight,”<br/>
             “I wasn’t expecting such a big party,” she admits.<br/>
             “Everyone wanted to see and talk to you,”<br/>
            “I know,” she sips her tea, closing her eyes. She knew people wanted to talk to her but hid anyway. I feel guilty for not trying harder to find her, to tell her we could leave, go home. “Today was the best day of my life,” her voice rings out softly, delicately.<br/>
            “Mine too,” I pull the hem of my sleeves over my hands, scared to ask the question that has been dancing on my lips all day. “Why did you want to adopt me?” She seems surprised by the question, almost offended. The knot in my stomach tightens. She takes both of our mugs, setting them off to the side.<br/>
            “Come here,” she says gently, wrapping her arm around me. Her hair tickles my cheek, and she brushes it away. “You are my favorite person. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, and I never will. You make me a better person. You are kind and thoughtful. So smart, quick-witted, funny. You fight fiercely for what you believe is right. Despite all that you have gone through in life, more than anyone shoulder ever go through, you still manage to find the good in this world. I have had the privilege of watching you grow these past two years, and it is not something I would trade for anything in the world. I want to be there for every year to come. I never thought I would have the opportunity to be a mother, I thought that decision was made for me. But then you came into my life. You gave me this choice, this wonderful opportunity that I will never be worthy of. Being your mother is the greatest joy in my life.”<br/>
            “Thank you for picking me,” I press closer, resting my head on her chest.<br/>
            “Its you and me, Little Witch.”</p><p><br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fin! I hope you all loved this chapter. Normally I type out a chapter quick, not even proof reading, then post, hoping for the best. But I wanted to give this chapter some extra love, sorry for the delay!<br/>As for part 4, I have some general plot points planned out, however I am open to requests! If there are any previous plots you would like me to revisit, relationships to examine, or anything of the ilk, please let me know! I’m a Romanrogers fan but can’t decide whether or not to include it in this fic!! A lot of Kindred will revolve around Nat and Wanda overcoming past traumas and trying to solidify their place in the world.<br/>Thank you all again for reading!! As always, comments and feedback are always welcome and appreciated :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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